


Peter's Stepdad

by nzeedee



Category: X-Men (Alternate Timeline Movies), X-Men: Apocalypse (2016) - Fandom
Genre: Father-Son Relationship, Gen, M/M, Nervous and Curious Peter, Peter loves his friends, Post-X-Men: Apocalypse (2016)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-18
Updated: 2016-12-30
Packaged: 2018-07-24 21:23:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 30,043
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7523650
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nzeedee/pseuds/nzeedee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Peter takes his time to observe and learn more about Erik as he works up the courage to make a family connection. Soon he realizes that Charles is a valuable asset in Erik's life and they may come as a unified pair.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Foster Home for Mutant Children

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into 中文 available: [Peter的後爹](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12627222) by [betty5271](https://archiveofourown.org/users/betty5271/pseuds/betty5271)



Okay, so the room isn’t big. In fact, it’s definitely smaller than his old room and significantly emptier. Although, his old room was the entirety of his mother’s basement and a school dorm room isn’t much in comparison. He couldn’t even transfer all of his stuff over to his dorm room. He brought enough to get by, compensating for the lack of arcade cabinets and televisions with attending regular classes and a social life. At least he managed to transfer posters and other various personal belongings. Otherwise the move would be quite a struggle in terms of feeling welcome.

Peter was one of the last mutants as of late to buckle down and give in to attending Xavier’s school, landing him in an old dorm room with no roommate. The professor said that he needed time to sort the school out since it was just rebuilt and he needs to get the housing situations under control. Peter tried to keep his bags and boxes packed incase he were to be shipped out to another room unexpectedly, but the room felt so dreary without his miscellaneous posters plastered on the walls.

Perhaps Peter’s decision to move out of his mother’s house was abrupt but it isn’t like this is something she didn’t want him to do. Despite his leaving he wonders if his mother and younger sister will be all right without him. If anything, he was the one to bring danger into their home. Though he doesn’t believe that his leaving is for the better or for the worse for his family, just a way for him to step out of his comfort zone. Go to school and get his life together, do something that proves that his life is progressing and finally changing. He never felt disdain from his mother but it was about time he got out of the house. Yet, the reason for his departure goes against her wishes. The last thing she wanted her son to do is leave the house to reconnect with his deadbeat father.

But Peter doesn’t believe his father is so awful. He believes his father is like anyone else who makes mistakes and deals with the fear of being hunted for being a mutant. Maybe this is true or maybe Peter is trying to hold onto the fact that his father could be someone for him to look up to. Peter’s opinion on his father is vague and he chose to stay at the Xavier Institute to gain greater insight on his father’s daily life. From what he could gather, his father is a private man and prefers to keep his life a secret, disregarding those who pry. Peter doesn’t want to be one to pry into a man’s personal life, but he needs to find out what he can about Erik. About his dad, and how he can possibly be in this dad’s life. Step one would be to inform his father that, well, he is Peter’s father.

Step one feels more like scaling the side of a cliff.

Peter sighs, exhaling a puff of air absentmindedly as he lies in his dorm room bed. His hands behind his head and his broken leg is propped up on a fat pillow. His physical activity had slowed down to a crawl lately due to the broken leg so now he spends most of his time in his bedroom listening to music. To most this would be a blissful time for rest and relaxation, but Peter is constantly itching to move.

Or he is usually, but right now he is finally getting into the rest and relaxation mode. Actually it is more like his thoughts are ringing louder than the music blaring from his ear buds, leaving him too mentally occupied to think about running.

He can start small with Erik. Observe him on campus and get a feel of who he is during everyday life, and not during the literal apocalypse.

“Peter?” calls a muffled voice though the door, “are you in there?” The voice is followed by quiet knocking, gradually increasing in volume.

Peter knit his eyebrows and pulls out an ear bud, “Yeah?”

He tilts his head up, watching Kurt step into his bedroom.

“Would you like to come outside? You’ve been cooped up in here all day.”

Peter groans. Lazy ass.

“Uh, Scott said I should tell you that I’m kidnapping you.”

Peter snorts, that sounds like something Scott would say. Kurt is too sweet to be so pushy. He sits up from the bed and reaches for the crutches propped up against his footboard. He secures them under his arms and prepares to stand, having mild difficulty with the task.

A blue hand clasps Peter’s shoulder and the next thing he knows is the sudden punch of fresh air. He buckles over and Kurt is struggling to hold him up, “Kurt! Warning next time.” At least he gives a whiplash warning. A simple teleportation warning shouldn’t be too much of a stretch. He can hear the others snorting in laughter at their mishap. He’s sure they look hilarious stumbling and yelling like a bunch of idiots.

Kurt sputters a series of apologies and offers to help Peter off the ground. Peter clings to him and limps to their group of friends. At least Kurt’s accuracy is good since they teleport directly behind the friend circle. Peter hobbles into the circle and plops down on the grass between Jubilee and Kurt. He extends his broken leg out in front of him and leans back on his hands, his crutches abandoned in the grass behind him. For a school that just blew up, the turf is surprisingly lush. He wonders if Ororo does school wide watering sessions.

“Good to see you, Pete.” Scott says, “Glad you made it.”

“According to Kurt, you didn’t give me much of a choice,” Peter takes a deep breath, sucking in the crisp air. “So what are we talking about?”

“We were discussing Scott’s lifestyle with having glasses he can never remove,” Jubilee replies.

Peter laughs, “Not to mention they make him look like a loser.”

“Would you prefer I take them off to get a better look at you? It will only take a second I promise,” Scott snaps bitterly at Peter’s jab.

“Chill out, Scott.” Jubilee says in a faux serious voice. She backhands Peter’s shoulder, “Don’t worry about it Peter. Scott is just mad he has to shower with glasses on.”

Everyone, with the exception of Scott, burst out in infectious laugher. He looks especially distraught by Jean’s betrayal.

“Really? You guys are going to side with the guy who voluntarily wears clothes he spray paints silver?”

“I’m surprised you know it's silver with that red tint,” Peter added, flaring out his elbows to roll his shoulders forward, tugging his jacket in an obnoxious display of what he regards as a cool fashion sense. Joking around with his friends is exactly what he needed to get his mind off his father.

There is such pleasure in teasing the hell out of Scott, but they made sure to avoid any topics that could be potentially too personal. That rule applies to the whole group; they all have pasts that are best not to bring up. But answers to Peter’s past are at the school, and one of the reasons why he chose to stay.

The conversation branches out to other topics, not pertaining to Scott’s appearance. Eventually Peter’s brain tunes out and he flops back to lie in the grass. Some quiet time outside is all his friends want out of him, and now that requirement is fulfilled. No harm in getting back to rest and relaxation.

He tucks his hands behind his head after plugging his single dangling ear bud back in his ear. He takes a long breath and closes his eyes, indulging in the beautiful day.

His mom was right about getting out of the house more often.

Trees rustle gently in the cool wind and chatter among students mix with Peter’s tunes, absolutely blissful.

He would be healed in no time. Not necessarily because of the beautiful weather, but it is a nice touch. He is a quick healer due to his rapid metabolism but that doesn’t mean his external conditions couldn’t be pleasant.

He could over hear his friends babbling about the rumoured amount of homework students receive. His mother would be proud of him for going back to school and getting a real group of friends. Honestly, he is proud of himself for getting some real friends and not spending the majority of his time with his younger sister at home. Not that he didn’t enjoy taking care of her, but she is growing up and has begun losing interest in hanging out with her older brother. Pretty pathetic if his little sister moves on before he does.

His time with his mother and sister was spent and now he is old enough to explore a relationship with the father who walked out of their family.

Peter’s head lulls to the side, and he catches the glimpse of the man he is thinking about.

Erik, with Charles at his side, as if he’s always been there and always will.

Since they rebuilt the school, Peter has rarely seen them apart from one another. Constantly walking together in the halls and outdoors, simply enjoying each other’s company.

Erik always seems joyful when in the company of Charles. Peter could hear him laughing from across the turf, his hand on Charles’ shoulder. He is so relaxed. There is such pleasure in their relationship, a connection that Peter knew nothing about.

Ten years ago when he was approached to help break Magneto out of the Pentagon, Charles decked Erik the second he saw him. Peter never thought their relationship’s true nature could possibly be the one he is currently witnessing. A relationship where they are both grinning from ear to ear and focusing on each other like the world around them doesn’t exist in one another’s presence.

Perhaps the role Charles plays in Erik’s life is more valuable and complicated than Peter anticipated. Despite those complications in their relationship, they seem to always end up at each other’s side. Contrasting what Erik did to his mother and their family.

Why Charles? Why is he the one traveling constantly converging paths with Erik?

Peter watches them till they are out of sight then goes back to cloud watching and overhearing his friends discussing something about how report cards work.

He could learn a thing or two about his father through Charles.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Who caught my (vague) Star Trek reference?


	2. Upgrade to a Hoverchair, Professor X!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter recruits his team of delinquent friends to help him get a ride in Professor Xavier's wheelchair. Unfortunately they get caught by someone much worse than Charles.

“Come on Jean, it’s an arms length away!” Scott whispers loudly.

Peter shushes him, “Shut up! We don’t want to wake him up.” He is referring to the unconscious Professor Xavier who is currently sleeping while Jean telekinetically rolls his wheelchair out of his bedroom. “Don’t ruin this for me, Scott!” Peter shoves Scott out of the way so he can get a better look at the wheelchair progress.

Getting a ride in the professor’s wheelchair has been on Peter’s wish list since he ended up at this school with a broken leg. The same broken leg that is preventing him from pulling off this heist on his own. Fortunately for him, Scott is mischievous enough to convince Jean to help, and Kurt got thrown into the mix unexpectedly along the way. He could have been in an out of there in a flash if not for his damaged leg, so now he had to recruit others and teach them what thievery is all about.

Kurt is muttering and pacing behind the others, panicking about getting in trouble for stealing the professor’s wheelchair. He didn’t have to join them, but Peter’s alternate plan is to get Kurt to grab the chair and teleport it out of the bedroom, but Kurt is too freaked out to they went with Jean as plan A. Plus Kurt needs to experience the true nature of being a teenager.

Peter keeps his eyes on the prize, the slow moving wheelchair that Jean is strategically moving around the room, making sure to not let it bump into furniture. Until the slightest creak of sound comes from the bathroom and Peter’s eyes snap to the minutely ajar door. Nothing. But he feels someone’s presence. Charles is clearly sleeping soundly in his bed and he couldn’t be up and about without his wheelchair.

His train of thought is cut off when Scott shoves him out of the way and lunges to the grab the wheelchair, yanking it into the hallway. “Look alive Pete, don’t blow this for us!” Scott snaps after Jean closes the professor’s door.

Peter considers explaining himself but he figures it’s pointless. There is probably no one there and it was the breeze from the window disturbing the door. He ends up staring at Scott blankly, who replies by sighing and predictably rolling his eyes.

Jean and Scott chatter and shush each other as they take the lead on rolling the chair to a remote hallway, far away from the professor’s room. Peter limps behind them with Kurt by his side to keep him company.

Peter ditches the crutches on the floor and frantically topples over into the wheelchair. This is what he has been waiting for, a ride in the professor’s stupidly cool looking chair. His broken leg just gave him another reason to get a ride in the chair, even though he’s almost completely healed. He refused to lose his chance, and his rapid healing offered him a small timeframe.

He juts his body forward then inspects the sides of the wheelchair in confusion. Is he supposed to use his arms? He never sees Charles use his arms. “How do you move this thing?”

“Joystick on the armrest,” Jean says, watching Peter’s strange attempts at using a wheelchair.

Peter knits his eyebrows and jiggles the joystick around, making the chair move erratically. Sweet. He shoves the stick forward to its maximum but the outcome is less than satisfactory. He rolls along the hallway at something that is just barely exceeding regular human walking speed. “Oh my god, this sucks!”

“It’s a wheelchair, Peter! How fast were you expecting it to go?” Jean calls from behind him.

For a professor who started a school dedicated to mutants and their extraordinary abilities, he could at least get himself something that is fast. It looks so high tech, Peter was disappointed to see that the chair didn’t hover, certainly a lost opportunity according to him.

“Kurt! Come push me!” It is about time he ropes Kurt into doing something other than panicking.

Kurt shuffles forward and grips the backrest, beginning to push Peter down the lengthy hallway. Hopefully pushing the wheelchair wouldn’t break any of the mechanics. The last thing he wants to do is piss of Professor Xavier and give Professor McCoy more work.

“Faster!”

Kurt nods and books it down the hallway, not getting very far before fumbling over a carpet fold. He trips up, losing control on the wheelchair and slamming into the ground. Peter comes to a halt and turns in the chair to see Kurt on the floor and hear Scott laughing his ass off across the hall. Peter looks up just in time to see Jean punch Scott in the arm. Ha, nice one!

She runs over and helps Kurt off the floor, “It’s okay Kurt, don’t worry about it. Scott’s a moron.” Kurt giggles half-heartedly at his mistake and the insult at Scott. Peter reaches out to pat his arm and gives him a thumbs-up for the effort, earning him a shy smile in return.

Scott pops his knuckles and slides past Jean and Kurt, preparing to make his display. He grabs the chair and begins sprinting down the hallway. Peter slides back down into a proper sitting position, grinning like mad. This is more like it! This is exactly what he wanted out of this wheelchair ride. He didn’t set the speed limits very high for his friends but they were trying and that’s good enough for him.

Unfortunately it doesn’t last much longer because Scott ends up decking it as well. Peter groans when he stops and checks to see what drama is going down. When he sees Jean move her fingers from his forehead, he realizes that she tripped Scott to get back at him for laughing at Kurt.

“Ugh! Guy’s come on!” Peter groans, annoyed at Jean for ruining his fun. Scott was doing a great job of pushing him but the grin on Kurt’s face is too wholesome to stay completely mad. Still, he wants a ride in the wheelchair before the sun comes up, “Quit being losers and push me!”

The sudden movement almost flips the chair and throws Peter on the floor. The chair jolts forward and shoots down the hallway, faster than Peter is expecting. He yelps and digs his fingernails into the armrests as he flies down the corridor. Of course this is Jean’s flawless attempt, her being the only one smart enough to use her power to her advantage. If this wasn’t professor Xavier’s stolen chair then he might have been proud of Jean for having such control.

“This is awesome!” Peter yells before getting spun around and pulled back at the same speed. From what he can tell, Jean looks pretty proud of herself for doing a better job than the boys.

Peter jerks forward violently; feeling as if a giant hand has seizes the chair. Jean squeaks in surprise and Peter is slingshot backwards, back into the dim hallway.

“Jean?” Peter squawks, clutching the armrests for dear life, “Jean what are you doing!”

“That’s not me!” Jean hollers as she and the others sprint after Peter.

“Holy shit! The chair is possessed!”

Peter’s back slams against the backrest when he is brought to an unexpected halt, he blinks and tilts his head back to see why he stopped.

_Oh fuck._

_Erik._

Peter swallows as he stares at the upside down face of his father. His frown is upside down but it is very clearly a frown.

The rest of the crew catch up and freeze at the sight of Erik. They are fucking toast now! Getting caught by Erik for their crime is worse than the professor himself catching them. Now they are going to get detention till the end of time.

A thick uncomfortable silence hangs heavy in the air as the kids cower beneath Erik’s relentless gaze.

“Get out of the chair.” Erik says bluntly, his voice slicing through the silence like a newly sharpened blade.

Peter snaps out of his daze when he realizes the comment is directed at him. Before he can make a move to get out of the chair, the back begins to lift off the floor, threatening to dump Peter on the carpet. He stumbles out of the chair, falling into Kurt and Scott’s unsuspecting arms. They both manage to support him, each getting under one of his arms to hold him up steadily. Peter latches onto their shoulders, being careful to not squeeze too hard.

The kids shift awkwardly, awaiting punishment from Erik. He looks so stern and uptight, yet he no scolding came from his lips.

“The professor needs this.” Erik says finally in a monotone voice laced with warning. That’s all that comes out of his mouth before he pivots and walks down an adjacent hallway towards Charles’ bedroom, the wheelchair rolling behind him like an obedient puppy.

Peter blinks in astonishment, frozen in utter disbelief that Erik let them off the hook. A few days ago that guy was ripping the earth apart but now he didn’t even scold a group of delinquents for stealing the professor’s wheelchair.

“How did he know we took the wheelchair?” Scott questions, cutting into the stunned silence.

Valid question. This school is huge and they secluded themselves as much as possible. There are tons of hallways and staircases, what are the odds that Erik would catch them before anyone else? Chatter spreads among the kids, stringing together ridiculous theories that involved Erik having more mutant powers, which he definitely didn’t.

“He was in the professor’s room.” Peter says, being the only one not participating in the outlandish theories.

His friends fall silent, processing Peter’s words. Judging by the looks on their faces, clearly his suggestion is the most ridiculous.

“What?” Scott asks finally voicing what their facial expressions are screaming, “No way. He probably heard Kurt hit the floor.” He nudges Kurt teasingly, poking him in the side so he flinches in surprise.

Jean shoves Scott a little too forcefully, making him break away from supporting Peter, “What about you? You weren’t so graceful slamming into the floorboards.” Of course this triggers a petty meaningless argument between them, mindlessly carrying their feet towards their respective bedrooms.

Kurt and Peter trail behind the fussing couple, making a pit stop to retrieve Peter’s abandoned crutches. Peter knew Kurt was too polite to say anything rude about his theory, but he knew all three of them thought it was absurd that Erik would be in the professors room at such early hours.

And the reasons for that insinuate intimacy in Charles and Erik’s relationship.

He realizes Kurt is fully intending on escorting him to his bedroom, “Thanks for your help Kurt but I can take it from here, go to your own room and try to get some sleep. I promise I’ll be fine.” Kurt attempts a rebuttal but comes up short by babbling an offer to teleport Peter to his bedroom so he didn’t have to walk the distance, but Peter brushes him off. He really does appreciate the kindness but he can manage on his own.

He wishes Kurt goodnight (good morning?) then hobbles to his bedroom. He chucks his crutches haphazardly on the floor then crashes face first into his mattress. Maybe he could scrape together about two hours of sleep before classes begin. It was much harder to make it to class on time with the broken leg; otherwise he could easily push his arrival to the very last split second. Now he is learning the horrors of proper time management.

Two hours of sleep is pretty good.

If only sleep was on his mind.

Instead his thoughts rattled on about tonight’s events. _How did Erik know?_ How did he know about their whereabouts and when did he find out? Surely Peter’s prediction wasn’t completely implausible! Someone was in the professor’s bathroom and it must have been Erik. Who else could it possibly be? Although if Erik really was the one in Charles’ room then he would have known about their shenanigans from the start. Why didn’t he stop them earlier? He could have taken the chair from them no problem the minute he noticed them trying to sneak away with it. That means he allowed them to take the chair out for a spin!

Peter’s head shoots up from his pillow and he squints at his watch. _5:23 AM._

That’s why he said, “The professor needs this.” Because a man with the work schedule of a professor would wake up at five o’clock in the morning and the man who knows him best would know his sleep schedule. Of course he didn’t want Charles to begin his morning with panic because his wheelchair is missing. It’s also possible Erik didn’t want to witness Charles lock a set of students in detention till their hair turned grey.

Well, Peter’s hair is already grey but that’s not the point.

The point is that his theory is one hundred percent correct and Erik was the one in Charles’ bathroom. Bringing up the specifics of his theory to his friends is too risky and awfully embarrassing since they all know Erik is his father.

Whether he knew Erik well or not, just knowing he is his father left a bad taste in his mouth when it came to thinking about how _personal_ his relationship with Charles is. No child wants to think about their parent doing _that!_

Lucky Peter enters a state of unconsciousness before his brain could even skim over that idea. Thankfully his brain was too tired to connect those pieces together fast enough and prevent him from getting a wink of sleep.

But he was conscious long enough to make note of the _soft_ spot Erik had for Charles.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Angry Charles is not something Erik likes to see, and he doesn't want to subject children to that wrath.


	3. Charles and Erik Sittin' in a Tree, K-I-S-S-I-N-G!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter isn't quite sure if helping to plant a tree for his dad's secret boyfriend counts as proper father-son bonding, but he'll take what he can get.

“Then Erik of all people caught us and I thought all hell was about to break loose!” Peter exclaims loudly, making wild hand gestures in an attempt to keep his story interesting.

It’s working because Ororo is giggling as they walk together on campus. The sun always shines brighter when she laughs, as if the day isn’t beautiful enough as is. They became pretty good friends since they met during the rebuilding of the school. Peter took to her easily and she welcomed him with open arms. She brought up Erik when they first met in a calm setting and since then Peter would vent to her if needed. She would listen but never take anything too seriously, and that always helped to lower Peter’s tensions. Of course that isn’t the only reason why Peter likes her, she is nothing short of lovely company. She would joke about borrowing his hair dye so they could match, and tells awesome stories. Not to mention she is an extraordinary mutant with a thrilling mischievous streak.

Last week they snuck to Scott’s room in the middle of the night to mess with him. She would fluctuate the temperature so his sleeping conditions were always uncomfortable. Dropping the temperature to make him curl up and shiver then turn up the heat to make him squirm away from the blankets. When they got bored she doused him in rain then Peter became an effective get away car before Scott could get aggravated and blast a hole through them.

Now he’s ranting about the events of the wheelchair fiasco. It’s been ringing at the forefront of his brain ever since that night. “I’m pretty sure the professor and my dad are sleeping together,” Peter says, sounding as if he is still processing the revelation. Not that he is opposed to it but now he feels like an unobservant idiot. There is a twang of bitterness boiling inside him with the new surprising fact, stemming from his mother. She definitely harboured resentment towards Erik for abandoning their family and no matter how much Peter fought; it still trickled down to him. Ever since he met Erik and realized he was his father, he had been using that as a means of escape. To finally leave his mom’s basement and do something with his life. Even if he didn’t reconnect with Erik, he is still making significant changes.

If Charles is the reason for Erik leaving his family than Peter can take that. Being _in love_ with someone else is a very acceptable excuse. But it is very clear that Erik has a lot going on since Peter did have to break him out of jail, so he refuses to give him a hard time.

Ororo never comments on Peter’s words, instead they walk in silence for a moment. She nudges him finally, pointing across the yard, “Is that your father?”

Peter squints in the direction Ororo is pointing, “Huh.” It is Erik. Carrying a shovel and a baby tree. Judging by the giant burnt tree corpse in the background, it’s obvious that he’s renewing the landscaping.

“Why is he planting a tree? Does he care that much about the environment or maybe the landscaping of the school? There are so many other trees.” Ororo asks, confused by the sights before her. “Is there something special about that tree?”

“I don’t k-“ Peter starts before his eyes widen when it hits him, “oh!”

Ororo gives him a questioning look, wanting him to explain rather than stand there gawking.

“Jean told me when Scott arrived at this school, the professor asked him to show off his powers. When that happened, Scott blew up that fallen tree.” He points to the enormous ashy trunk of burnt wood, “Jean said it was the professors favourite tree because he grew up with it.”

“Why is Erik replanting it?”

“Maybe it’s for the professor?”

“Do you think he asked him to?”

Peter shrugs, “Could be a surprise for him.”

They go quiet, watching Erik choose a suitable area to plant the new tree. After recent events, Peter doesn’t doubt he’s doing it for Charles.

“Let’s ask him,” Ororo suggests, already getting a head start towards Erik.

 _Wait, what? No! No no no! Oh my god, come back here!_ It’s too late; she’s already crossing the bridge and walking straight towards Erik. He’s too nervous to speak to his dad still and especially about this. He doesn’t want to walk up and ask if he is doing something extremely affectionate towards Charles because he is possibly in love with him and that’s why be left Peter’s family. Okay, so he’s not going to say any of that but he’s worried he’ll blurt out something stupid. Peter panics zooms across the field to stop her.

He comes up short because she’s already asking him what he’s doing. _Late again._

While Peter buries his nerves and converts them to over-confidence, Erik just looks startled. 

“I’m planting a tree to replace the fallen one,” Erik answers, not prepared to be speaking to anyone. Sounding like he wasn’t expecting anyone to notice him, let alone strike up a conversation. Maybe he would be more comfortable if they left him alone.

“Do you need any help?” Ororo asks, offering a small smile.

 _Oh god_ , this just keeps getting worse! Peter fights the urge to sprint as far as he can, directly into the fucking sunset. Destined to live in his mothers basement till the end of time. Erik didn’t want _or_ need their help; he could plant a tree by himself.

Erik raises his eyebrows in surprise, “If you’re offering, I welcome your help.”

Oh. Scratch that thought.

“Peter!”

He snaps out of his daze and brings his attention to Ororo, “Yeah?”

“Can you handle digging?”

“What? Why me?” Was Ororo setting him up to help out his dad, like forced father-son bonding or something? He doesn’t want to rush that process. Although, their relationships progression isn’t exactly normal, he did meet his father breaking him out of prison then didn’t seem him again for ten years.

“Because you’re fast?” She says, looking at him like he is a moron. Like there is no other reason why she would nominate him for the task. 

“Oh,” Of course, he could dig a hole in the blink of an eye. He fixes his goggles on his forehead then takes the shovel from Erik, setting himself up as the other two back off so they don’t get accidentally whacked at super speed by a shovel.

Peter gets started, scooping dirt out and tossing it into a moderately neat pile. It takes him less than a second to create a decently deep hole, certainly deep enough for the baby tree. He stops, presenting them with the final product and nods at Erik.

Erik sets the tree in the newly made hole and crouches down to pack in the dirt.

Without missing a beat, Peter is on his hands and knees, helping his father pat dirt around the tree. He’s never been this close to his father in ten years. A much nicer light this time. Outside in the fresh open air and away from an underground holding cell and free from stuffy prison jumpsuits. The lilac sweater Erik is wearing is much more flattering than the white prison uniform.

He glances at his father, watching him shove the cuff of his sweater to his elbow with a dirt covered fist.

_Wait._

_Lilac sweater?_

Peter springs up from the ground, eyes wide and gesturing violently at Ororo. He’s tugging at his shirt and mouthing: ‘the sweater! The sweater! He’s wearing Charles’ sweater!’ but only getting a confused expression from Ororo in response. Perhaps his method of erratic flailing isn’t the most effective for conveying a message but it’s all he can manage in his time of panic. She keeps mouthing: ‘what?’ in return but Peter isn’t getting more coherent, in fact, he might be getting less coherent.

Peter’s spine snaps straight when his father gets up, trying to play it cool. Instead he looks uncomfortably tense but Erik doesn’t think much of it, he’s too busy mentally congratulating himself on a job well done. Or he thinks the job is done until Peter pulls him away from the tree. Peter receives something inching towards a dirty look from Erik but he offers a small smile in return and gestures to Ororo.

Her eyes turn a milky white and she conjures up a small puffy grey cloud, hovering over the new tree. The cloud begins to pour fresh rain water, sinking the tree snuggly into the earth.

“I remember that being more violent.” Erik says, tilting his head toward Peter.

“She’s been practicing,” Peter grins, proud of Ororo for controlling a focused weather change.

The cloud dissipates soon since Ororo doesn’t have the intention of drowning the tree.

“Thank you.” Erik nods politely, grateful for their assistance.

“No problem, da-dude.” _Fuck_ , close one. Peter clears his throat, “Who’s the tree for? Wait, I-“ _fuck fuck fuck_ , “I mean, w-why’d you plant the tree?” Good lord, this is why leaving his mom’s house was a bad idea.

“It’s for Charles,” Erik knits his eyebrows, “I’m assuming a student demolished his favourite tree.”

Peter nods, “Okay cool, I hope he likes it.” He stiffens and grabs Ororo’s arm, pulling her away from Erik. No destination but he’s stomping out of earshot.

“Can you strike me with lightning?” Peter groans, rubbing his eyes with his fists.

She throws an arm around him and snorts. A weak attempt at comfort peaking through her blatant enjoyment in his suffering. “Real smooth back there, Peter.”

“Oh shut up,” he nudges her but smiles when he hears her break out into laughter. He can’t help but crack up as well; he really is a total fucking loser. As embarrassing as that was, it technically counts as progress in their father-son relationship. Planting a tree is probably on the list of father-son bonding activities. Even if the tree is for his professor who his father is likely in love with. Helping his dad court a cute boyfriend is close enough to family bonding. Considering Erik’s track record, they would be doing a lot worse when it comes to spending time together. In the long run if Charles and Erik get married then they would be a family. Peter would have _two_ dads. _Whoa._

“What were those elaborate gestures you were making back there? What were you trying to tell me?” Ororo asks, fighting off bursts of laughter spawning from the memory of how hilarious Peter looked flailing in distress.

“The sweater! It belongs to Charles! When we were decked out in kick ass flight suits and you had that crazy mystical armour, he was wearing that purple sweater!” He was pretty ill prepared for the end of the world but he didn’t have much prep time. He did look pretty good for a guy who was literally kidnapped and taken from his home.

“Maybe they have matching sweaters? That’s cute too.”

“That’s almost too cute, but you know what’s more adorable?” Besides Ororo and him having matching hair colours.

“What?”

“If Erik is replacing the tree because they carved their names in it together years ago when they first met.”

“Who knew they could be so sappy!”

 _Oh my god._ Peter shoves Ororo off him, “you have lost your right to be my friend!”

She’s not listening; she’s too busy snorting at her own joke. Peter fumes for a moment but breaks and gives into her infectious laughter. It is absolutely impossible not to laugh when Ororo laughs, he is pretty sure her smile is forged from sunbeams.

Hopefully she shares her sun with Charles’ tree.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry for ending this chapter with a tree pun.


	4. Skid Marks via Tires and Shoe Soles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hot shot Scott challenges Peter to a race because he is so blinded by rage he genuinely believes he can beat him if he's driving a car. What an embarrassment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Judging by the way Peter talks about his friends, you could swear he's in love with all of them. Even Scott.

“You’re not that fast, Maximoff!” Words so untrue, anyone within earshot range is consumed by confusion. Of course Scott Summers is the one unleashing lies in a heated rage.

“Oh yeah, when it counts I take it _real slow_.” Peter teases, which is the same stupid shit that got him in this argument in the first place. He really should ease up on Scott and give that dude a break. Not like he said anything offensive, he would just tease Scott to death about trivial things.

Maybe he went a little overboard because Scott is ready to blast a hole through him.

“Race me!”

“What? Dude, are you serious?”

“I can take you!”

“Scott, come on. Stop it, you’re embarrassing yourself.” Jean says, placing a hand on his shoulder. He shrugs it off and doesn’t tear his deadly gaze from Peter.

Peter snorts because yeah, he really is embarrassing himself. No one in their right mind would think they could beat Peter in a race. He’s the reason mutants can’t compete in professional sports because he broke eight records in track and field and caused a World Record scandal. That’s not something to brag about anymore since he really did fuck up a lot of opportunities for kids. But the point is that _he is fast_ and Scott is in over his head.

“Meet me on the road in front of the school-“ Scott is cut off by wind whipping his hair then Peter is gone, “Fucking pri-“

A hand slaps his shoulder and Peter is back, “Scott! There you are, man! I waited and waited for you on the road in front of the school and you were a no show. Figured I should come looking for you, incase you forgot.”

Jubilee, Kurt, Ororo, and even Jean can’t help but crack up. But Scott is really not having it today. He grabs the front of Peter shirt and yanks him forward, pulling them face-to-face. Peter tenses and his breath stutters through parted lips.

Jean grabs Scott and hauls him off of Peter, “All right, hot shot, time to tone it down.”

“Heh, hot shot Scott.” Peter chuckles, flattening down his shirt with his palms.

“Hey!” Jean snaps, pointing an accusing finger at him, “You too, this is just as much your fault.”

She drags Scott aside by his jacket but he still manages to twist himself around within the fabric and call out to Peter, “Road, in ten minutes!”

“Scott!” Jean barks, annoyed with his persistency.

“It’s cool, Jean.” Peter says, raising a soft hand to make peace. “I’ll race him. See you in ten,” he pulls up one of his classic smiles, offering it graciously to Scott. He riles him too much and he owes him this. Racing Scott could be fun! The whole situation only becomes not fine when there is aggravation. Professor Xavier’s school is the last place Peter wants to bring unnecessary aggravation. The race didn’t mean anything. Peter would kick Scott’s ass regardless, so the least they could is have some fun and mess around like stupid kids.

Peter sighs and turns to the three remaining friends, “I’m assuming you’re all coming, so I’ll see you in ten minutes. Meanwhile I’m going to go grab a soda, I guess do some other things…like go back to my mom’s house, get a snack. I got lots of time.”

Jubilee gives him a bored stare, telling him to drop the act. Which really wasn’t an act because he truthfully could do all that in ten minutes or so. The only thing that slows him down is if the task itself can’t be sped up. If only he could speed up the rate at which a microwave works so he can eat hot pockets sooner.

Ooh, hot pockets.

“I really am going to go grab that soda and snack so I’ll see you guys later.” He grins then slaps Kurt on the shoulder playfully before zipping off towards the house and into the kitchen.

He swings open the freezer and finds a box of some slightly frostbitten hot pockets shoved in the back. This is free for all, right? He flips open the cupboard in search of a plate, dumping the remainder of the boxes contents on it when he finds a clean one. Is someone supposed to do the dishes? Peter assumed it was a wash what you use sort of set up, but this is a school filled with lazy irresponsible teenagers. This is someone’s house and he’s caring enough to let a bunch of kids stay with him, pay up with some thanks and common courtesy. Peter huffs and puts his hot pockets in the microwave for two minutes.

Two minutes to do a pile of dishes.

He removes his jacket and throws it over the back of a chair and runs hot water over the grimy dishes. He dives in, washing, drying, and stacking the dishes in record time. His mom probably misses his efficiency with housework.

He still has a few seconds to kill.

He rummages through the drawers, finding a notepad, marker, and scotch tape. He scribbles a sign reading: ‘wash what you use’ then tapes it above the sink. He tosses the stationary back in the drawer and slides his hot pockets out of the microwave when it starts to beep.

“Hot hot hot hot!” He clinks the plate on the counter in a rushed movement. He waits about three seconds before trying again, having the same reaction. He scowls at his food; this is the shit that slows him down. He slips his jacket back on then gently picks up a single hot pocket and takes a tiny bite. Still hot but he can take it. Shame there was only two hot pockets left. Guess someone forgot about them. Man, he really hopes they aren’t expired. His concern is at a minimum because he’s already on to the second pocket. He should buy some more of these and some orange soda as celebration for kicking Scott’s ass in a race. He yanks open the fridge, searching for a soda in the mean time. Who the fuck is only buying Tab? He takes a can anyway, bolding his mental note to get orange soda. He cracks open the can and downs a decent portion of the liquid then sets it on the counter, balances his half eaten hot pocket on top.

He can’t talk shit about people not doing their dishes and leave his own for someone else to deal with. He rinses off his plate, drying it promptly and stacking it among the others. He deserves a gold star from the professor.

_Wonder what everyone else is doing._

He wanders through the hallways and rooms, finding people either studying or chatting with friends. Finally a familiar sight greets him when he reaches a common room. Professor Xavier allowed him to bring his arcade cabinets if he put them in the common room for everyone to use. Since they had to be unplugged to bring them over it wiped out his high scores. The first thing he did once they were set up again was replace all of his scores and so far on one has been able to top him. He likes to watch groups of kids groan in agony at his unbeatable score. No one knew who the fuck ‘QSL’ was and why his score was an immovable force.

He watches a kid play Pac-Man with pure determination plastering his face but once again, his score doesn’t even come close. Peter grins and lets out a short huff of laughter then shoves the remainder of his hot pocket in his mouth when the other kids turn to glare at him.

“Hey! Why don’t you take a whack at it? You sure seem to think it’s easy.” The kid previously playing snaps at Peter, pissed off for his snickering.

He swallowed his food, “I’m good, man. I’ve been challenged enough today.”

The kid steps out of his way, presenting him with the cabinet and an expectant expression. Peter sighs and steps up to the plate since shying away is no longer an option.

_What score did he leave on this anyway?_

“Pfft!” Is his immediate reaction to the score, “This is the score you have been trying to beat? Pretty sure this is the lowest one on all of the games.” He hands his Tab to the kid who challenged him, “Don’t drink any.” He cracks his knuckles and shoves his left hand in his pocket. His cockiness is going to be the death of him. “I set the bar low on this one,” he says starting a new game, barely letting the others process what he means before he’s flying through levels at the blink of an eye.

By the time he’s done, the top score is effectively doubled and the other students are gaping at Peter. He punches in ‘QSL’ as his name, pushing his old score down to second place.

He retrieves his soda from the kid who challenged him, “If you unplug the game to reset the scores, I’ll triple it. Good luck.” He raises his can to the kid in cheers then leaves, heading outside to his other challenge.

He’s Late. _Ah shit._

He sprints across the field, arriving at the meeting point late with a half finished Tab. Scott is sitting pretty in same stolen yellow car while the others are standing on the sidelines. This race is the real deal. “Sorry I’m late, it’s a long story.”

“Whatever Pete. Are you ready?” Scott says, tapping his fingers on the steering wheel in annoyance. Ten minutes should have been enough time for him to cool off.

“Yeah, I-“ he looks at his unfinished soda then passes it off to Kurt, “You can have the rest.” He lines himself up with Scott’s front tires, “I’m ready.”

“Jubilee.”

“Yeah yeah, I got it Scott.” She waves him off and struts forward, standing between the boys with her hands on her hips.

Scott is giving the steering wheel a death grip and revving the engine. Whoa! Take it down a notch, hot shot. You’re embarrassing yourself again. “Count it, Jubilee!”

She sighs and shifts her weight to her other hip. “Three…Two…One…” she raises her hands above her head. “GO!” she yells, shooting rainbow sparks into the sky.

Scott speeds off, unintentionally burning tire marks into the pavement.

Meanwhile, Peter is sitting on a hip and rummaging through his jackets inside pockets. He pulls out a tape and clicks open his player, swapping it with the one he was listening to previously. He clicks it in and presses play once it is hooked to his belt again. He puts in his ear buds in then secures his goggles over his eyes.

Sparks splatter the pavement at his feet and he jumps in surprise.

“Go you asshole!” Jubilee commands, her hand out and threatening not to miss next time.

“I’m going! I’m going!” Peter zips down the road and passes Scott effortlessly. He slows down just enough to wave at Scott as he glides past him then jets off as a silver blur.

Eventually Scott rolls up to the finish line, angrier than before. “Rematch! You owe me a rematch!”

“All right. All right, man. Let’s go back to the start.” Peter hops into the car, sitting on the back with his feet on the seat.

“Pete, I don’t want to give you a ride. You don’t even need a ride.” Scott says, swivelling around in his seat to look at him.

“I don’t want to wait for you at the starting line.”

Scott slams the acceleration down for a second, jolting the vehicle forward and almost flipping Peter out of the car. Peter grips the seat cushion for dear life, his eyes going wide. He clears his throat then sits up straight, “I deserved that.”

“You deserved that,” Scott’s words overlapping with Peter’s. He turns the car around and begins a much slower drive back to the others.

Peter rests his hands behind him and leans back, enjoying the scenic drive. The road back here is covered in lush greenery and blooming flora. Hues of green speckled with vibrant bursts of stunning yellow, red, pink, and purple flowers. Any other time he was on this road he was moving too fast to notice.

He pulls out an ear bud and leans forward to speak to Scott, “Hey dude. Your start back there was really cool. You left skid marks and everything. It was pretty awesome.”

“Really?” Scott asks, a small smile creeping to his face at the compliment.

“Yeah, you’re a good driver. You were driving when you took everyone to the mall that one time, right?”

Scott nods, failing to hide his grin.

“By the way I would love to come to the mall with you guys if you’re thinking about going again. Do you think you can steal this car for a third time?”

“It will be about as easy as stealing it the second time, which was not much harder than the first.”

Peter snorts then claps his hand on Scott’s shoulder. He’s a cool kid and Peter should probably lay off the insults, or at least add some compliments. Quit giving him such a hard time.

They pull up to the starting line and Peter throws two ‘rock on’ symbols in the air, signalling his obvious victory.

“Are you boys finally finished with your games?” Ororo asks, crossing her arms. Their competitive behaviour is beginning to feel downright childish.

“Nope.” Peter jumps out of the car once Scott has turned it around, “Scott wants a rematch.”

“Seriously Scott?” Jean butts into the conversation, “Haven’t you learned that you can’t beat Peter?”

“Come on. Aren’t you guys having any fun? You do realize I stole a car so I could race. It’s pretty fucking awesome.” Scott shrugs, not understanding how they wouldn’t see the enjoyment in the whole situation. The passing breeze has carried every bitter feeling in his body away.

“Not really,” Ororo replies and Kurt shrugs in agreement.

“Incase you haven’t realized, we aren’t the ones racing.” Jubilee adds, “We are just fans sitting on the bleachers watching you two flex.”

Peter and Scott make eye contact for a moment then turn back to their friends. “Get in,” Scott suggests making a gesture to the empty seats surrounding him.

“We are not giving in to your juvenile games.” Jean answers for everyone, and quiet falls among the group.

“I’d like to.” Kurt mumbles, breaking the silence. Peter and Scott grin simultaneously as Kurt climbs into the front seat, Scott giving him a welcoming pat on the back.

“Come on girls. Three nice seats back here for you,” Scott offers, jutting his thumb at the back seat.

Jubilee and Ororo shrug and step forward without much more convincing. When Jean doesn’t follow they turn back and grab her hands, guiding her to the car. She groans but doesn’t put up much of a fight when it comes to climbing into the car.

“What? No one wants to ride with me?” Peter jokes.

“Nobody wants to ride you, Peter. Shut up.” Scott teases and the crowd snickers.

“ _Wow!_ Okay. I did not deserve that!”

“Yes you did.”

“Just for that,” he points an accusing finger at Scott, “I’m not going easy on you.”

“I don’t believe you were planning to go easy on us in the first place.”

“Enough talk! Let’s go go go!” Jubilee chants, raising her hands to shoot a spray of sparks into the air. Scott floors it and gets a decent head start on Peter before he catches up and runs beside the car to tease them. He grins and spins around and starts running backwards. Which proves to be much harder than expected because he trips and falls as they zoom away from him. He catches up a moment later and they are still laughing at him for his fumbling. He has to admit it was hilarious. He speeds up, whizzing away as a silver blur. No way he is letting this accidentally become a tie.

He whooshes down the road turning his head when he notices a passing presence. He wasn’t paying enough attention to make note of who or what it was.

_Peter._

_Peter. Turn around and get back here._

“Professor?” Fuck. That must have been whom he passed. He stops and turns, zooming back to the blur from earlier. Can’t disobey the professor.

Not only is the professor out for an evening stroll but also Erik accompanies him. Awesome, more awkward encounters with his father. He yanks out his ear buds out of respect and places his goggles atop his head, giving the professor and his father his full attention.

“Peter, what on earth are you doing?”

He opens his mouth to speak but he is cut off by Scott and the others speeding past, directly behind him. Charles jolts, now sitting with his spine glued to his backrest, utterly startled. Peter swallows and his eyes wander to Erik who is barely fazed in comparison to Charles. He raises an open palmed hand in the direction of the car.

_Oh fuck._

There is a loud creaking noise in the distance and startled yelps. Peter turns his head to see the car gradually floating backwards, a couple inches off the ground. They stop just behind Peter, Erik not letting go of the car or even letting it touch the road.

Erik turns his attention back to Peter, “Answer Charles’ question.”

Peter straightens up, “Scott challenged me to a race because for some reason he thinks he’s faster than me if he’s in a car.”

Charles and Erik glance at each other then back at the kids.

“Are we in trouble?” Peter interrupts, “Please don’t punish them! It isn’t their fault. I’ll take their punishment, except for Scott because this really is his fault.”

“Trouble? No no, we are taking bets.” Charles says, gesturing to Erik and himself, “That is, if you’re up for another round.”

_Wait what?_

Peter turns to his friends, completely baffled. From the looks of it, they all feel the same way. He faces Charles and Erik again since his friends are offering up no answers, “Another round.”

“Great! Jean, you’re moderator.”

“Uh, okay.” She points down the road, “The starting line is over there.”

“Very good. When we get there, Erik and I will place out bets.”

Erik spins the car around slowly then sets the tires down on the pavement gently. He makes eye contact with Scott, “Don’t try anything.”

“Yes, sir.” Scott squeaks and shrinks in his seat. Peter smiles at the ground, loving the amount of terror his father struck inside Scott.

He doesn’t try anything; In fact, they drive about the same speed as Xavier’s wheelchair, which from personal experience is slow. Peter keeps it together for about two minutes before he groans loudly, “Oh my god! Okay, if we are going at this _painful_ speed then we need music.” He leans over Kurt in the passenger seat and fiddles with the radio as he walks, finding something suitable to listen to.

Oh yes. This is exactly the song he needs. He cranks the volume to maximum, letting [Mr. Speed by KISS](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EL7ZyRy9f9I) blast from the car speakers.

Honestly this crowd needs a desperate change of mood. He goes all out, walking backwards in front of the car while playing air guitar and lip-syncing to the song like his life depends on it. Surprisingly the first person to crack up is Xavier. Soon Kurt is giggling and Scott is drumming his hands on the steering wheel, Jubilee and Ororo are rocking out in the back seat and Jean’s laughing. Even Erik has a smile. Peter’s almost upset when the song ends and they reach the starting line.

Scott parks the car when it’s in position then switches off the radio. All the girls sit on the back of the car, feet on the seat like Peter was doing before.

“I believe it is time to place bets,” Erik pulls out his wallet and fishes out a handful of bills, “Two hundred dollars on Peter.” He hands the money to Jean who is hesitant to take it.

_Two hundred dollars._

Peter’s head snaps towards Jean and he watches her take the wad of cash from Erik.

“Two hundred on Peter,” Jean announces, barely believing it herself.

Holy shit. That’s a lot of money to bet on a dumb race. That’s a lot of money to bet on _him_. Second of all, Erik picked him. His dad was on his team! He beams with happiness as he completely fails to hide a smile.

“Ah, all right.” Charles leans to one side, resting on an elbow, “No offence Scott but I’m picking a different opponent.”

Different Opponent? Not like anyone could drive much better than Scott in terms of racing. Ororo and Kurt probably didn’t have driver’s licenses. Wait. He is picking someone to beat him on foot.

Charles scans his options, “I choose Kurt.” He hands Jean another two hundred dollars to add to the betting pool.

“Me?” Kurt points to himself in disbelief. He doesn’t wait for an answer since there is no one else named Kurt and Scott is nudging him out of the car.

Charles beckons Kurt and he stumbles over to the professor. He whispers something to Kurt and he nods then joins Peter at the starting line. Jubilee hops out of the car and takes her rightful position as flag girl, “Are you boys ready?”

They nod and Peter smiles at Kurt, winking at him before putting on his goggles. The corners of Kurt’s lips curl upwards and his gaze turns downwards.

“Three…Two…One…GO!” Jubilee shoots an array of sparks in the air and Peter is off on the mark this time. Kurt poofs into nonexistence and greets Peter when he reaches the finish line.

“Dammit!” Peter sprints back to the starting line but is still welcomed by a puff of blue smoke and Kurt waiting for him.

“Sorry,” Kurt apologizes sheepishly, not wanting to upset Peter.

“Sorry? You don’t need to apologize! Kurt that was amazing!” Peter gives him a high five and Kurt is beaming with pride. In no time, the others are flooding Kurt, giving him hugs and praise like no tomorrow. Jubilee plants a kiss on Kurt’s cheek and her and Ororo are cheering and bouncing around him. Scott is patting him on the back, proud of him for defeating Peter. He finally got to see Peter lose!

“Charles, that is not fair.” Erik says with his arms crossed and a smile on his face.

“It’s completely fair, Erik. If Peter can use his mutant abilities then it is fair that Kurt has the same opportunity.” He glances up at Erik with a soft smile across his lips, “Don’t be a sore loser.”

Jean separates from the group to hand Professor Xavier four hundred dollars as his winnings, “Congrats professor.” She runs off, back to Kurt and the others. They really couldn’t get over Kurt’s spectacular teleportation.

“Peter!”

He pivots at the sound of his name, now facing the man who called him. Erik. He approaches him, a nervous twang bursting through his joy. “Sorry you lost all that money because of me. I mean, I’m fast but I can’t beat a teleporter.”

“Don’t worry about it. I’ve never been very good at beating Charles when it comes to games.”

Charles places his hand casually over his lips to hide a smirk and Peter wonders what other _games_ they play. He eliminates that thought immediately and focuses back on Erik.

“Good job, Peter.”

Peter’s classic cheeky grin graces his features. Having a dad is incredible. Especially when he’s proud. This is exactly the feeling he thinks of when he imagines fatherly pride. It was basically the same as motherly pride but he wasn’t giving his mother much to be proud about. He’s a kleptomaniac that lived in her basement well into adulthood, only leaving to find the one person she didn’t want him to meet.

At least she is wrong about the guy she didn’t want him to meet.

Erik raises a soft hand then car keys fly past Peter’s head and into his open palm. He dangles them in front of Peter’s face then drops them into his hand when he gets the idea, “Return the car.”

He stares at the keys in his hand, experiencing a hint of déjà vu. “Are you going to tell me to take it slow?”

Charles gets it but Erik is knitting his eyebrows, “You don’t need to take it slow, you’re doing fine at your own speed.”

Peter nods to him respectfully, silently thanking him for the kind words.

The couple head towards the school but Peter can still hear them conversing.

“You going to spend your winnings on me?” Erik asks Charles, referring to the bet money.

“Maybe. You may deserve a thank you gift for the tree, which was a lovely surprise.” 

Erik twists around, glancing back at Peter. He totally knows he is eavesdropping. Peter panics and gives him a double thumbs-up. He officially feels like Erik’s wingman.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote this and I still immediately think Erik is going to kill all the kids when he grabs the car.


	5. Peter "Groovy Mutation" Maximoff

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter hasn't subdued his kleptomania and tonight he accidentally steals Professor Xavier's private stash of records, leading him to throw the biggest dance party the school has ever seen to escape his Saturday night boredom.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mentioned songs are compiled in a convenient [Spotify](https://open.spotify.com/user/nanudatar/playlist/5OMFD49Rzm6uxUHr7sFuTs) playlist. 
> 
> Tracklist:  
> 1\. You Sexy Thing - Hot Chocolate  
> 2\. Got To Be Real - Cheryl Lynn  
> 3\. Get Down On It - Kool & The Gang  
> 4\. Night Fever - Bee Gees  
> 5\. Sunny - Boney M.  
> 6\. He's The Greatest Dancer - Sister Sledge  
> 7\. Get On The Floor - Michael Jackson  
> 8\. Love Magnet - The Trammps  
> 9\. Get Down Saturday Night - Oliver Cheatham  
> 10\. My Forbidden Lover - CHIC

Peter’s dorm room is the messiest, most cluttered, and contains the biggest disarray of junk, but it’s still one of the central hangout spots for him and his friends. God knows why they enjoy sitting on his floor covered in clothes and chip bags. At least wherever they look they’re likely to find a snack. He also has a large selection of activities to subdue boredom including comics, video games, and board games.

Killer Saturday night getting obliterated at card games by a telepath on some loser’s bedroom floor. Xavier really needs to kick up the weekend activities a notch.

“Why haven’t we done anything that I’m good at?” Scott asks after losing his tenth game to Jean. They don’t like ruling out the use of mutant abilities when they hang out because technically anything can count as training. “Peter and Kurt are good at racing. Jean can beat us at tabletop games. Last weekend Jubilee did a fireworks show just because she can, and in the same weekend Ororo made it snow so we could go sledding!”

Peter adjusts himself on his bed so he’s lying comfortably with a pillow tucked under his chin, “Because nobody is willing to have a staring contest with you.” He opted out of that round of cards because all the entertainment he needs is watching Scott make frustrated faces every time he loses. So instead he’s watching, hovering over his friends as he lies belly down on his mattress. “Not because you’ll kill them in an instant, but because they don’t want to look at you.”

Scott chucks his card hand at Peter and falls back onto the floor, then gets up immediately because he landed in a popcorn bowl. “It’s getting late, maybe I should go back to my own room since Peter’s being a dick.” He flicks a gummy bear at him but Peter just eats it after it hits him in the face.

“What are you going to do there? Sit alone? At least here we can be bored together,” Ororo points out then eats a handful of jellybeans.

Scott groans, “All we are doing is getting high on sugar!” She’s right though. Anything else would be slightly more boring and lonely.

“Does anyone know where Kurt is?” Peter asks. Usually all of them hang out together. Unless Kurt has another secret group of friends, something is up.

“He’s in detention.” Jubilee answers as if Kurt is the kind of guy who spent the majority of his school time in detention for being a delinquent kid who breaks shit and bullies children.

Everyone’s attention snaps into focus because a sweet angel like Kurt does not belong in detention.

“Okay, so I’m going to ask what everyone is thinking.” Scott slides in, “How did the sweetest kid on earth, end up in detention?”

“It wasn’t his fault,” Jubilee begins to explain, “some dumb kids were picking on him and grabbed his tail. He got spooked and teleported onto the chandelier. The chandelier came crashing down but Kurt managed to get away before it hit the ground. He’s not hurt physically, but everyone laughed so he probably took some emotional damage.”

“Shit. How long is he in detention?”

“His time should be up in about a half hour.”

Peter rolls off the bed and leans over his desk to write a note, “I’ll drop a note off telling him to come here after he’s free from jail time.”

“Why? Do you like him or something?” Scott wiggles his eyebrows but the effect isn’t the same with the glasses.

“I like him better than you, that’s for sure.” He takes the jacket slung over his desk chair and slips it on. It’s his old wine coloured bomber jacket with tigers embroidered on the breasts and a maroon stripe down either arm. Old jacket with weird memories but it’s clean and not on the floor. “Plus it’s something to do. I’ll be back soon.”

They grunt in acknowledgment and he’s out the door. He takes the scenic route to the detention room since he has time to kill. There are no windows on the inside of the school since it’s technically a house so Peter traces the perimeter till he finds the detention room where they are holding Kurt captive. He stoops down just beneath the window next to Kurt’s seat. Thank god he sat next to the window. He peaks into the room again for a split second then ducks back down. Actually he’s sitting next to the window because it’s the farthest seat from the dumbass kids who were picking on him. What a bunch of jerks. Peter takes the note out of his coat pocket and flicks it at Kurt through the slightly ajar window when he has the chance. He made sure to draw him a smiley face. Hopefully he’s not too shaken up about the whole event. Xavier’s school is supposed to be escape from assholes messing with Kurt and treating him like a freak.

Peter zips away from the detention room window and walks back into the school. He takes a couple detours, checking out what other students are doing on a Saturday night. Nothing. Absolutely nothing interesting is going down. Well, some kid is throwing grapes into his friend’s mouth from across the room but that’s the extent of the excitement. Talk about a bunch of party animals.

He’s about to turn back and return to his awesome Saturday night boredom party but something catches his eye. The professor’s office is at the end of the hall, with the door cracked open. He glances around the hallway and there is not a single soul in sight. Where’s the professor? Where is Erik? Peter put two and two together as he glides past the wood doors into the room. Let’s see what the professor is hiding behind his off limit desk. Peter crouches to scope out the bottom shelves after realizing the professor locks his desk drawers. Judging by the nature of the school, it’s probably for the best that he does so.

_Ooh, this is interesting._

Nice box of records is tucked away on the bottom shelf. Peter hauls the box out, nimbly flicking his way through the titles. Never pegged Charles to be a disco guy. Fuckin’ groovy.

It’s probably the wind making the door creak open further but it is enough to spook Peter into zipping out of the office and down the hall. He stops and hides, his back pressed to a wall around the corner. He peers back down the corridor, false alarm, but he did overextend his stay. He freezes mid exhale when he notices the stolen box of records sitting pretty in his hands. Did he just subconsciously nab the professor’s vinyl? Ugh, fuck he should return these.

On the other hand, it’s not like the professor is currently using them. Peter’s just curious. What kind of funky tunes does the professor keep in here? Peter did have a record player in his room, and now he has a whole box of new records. What a coincidence! It couldn’t hurt to check them out. Better than his current uneventful Saturday night plans.

A cheeky grin spreads across his lips and in a split second he’s dropping the box on his bed.

“Whaddya got there, Pete?” His friends easily disregard their unfulfilling card game, hoping Peter has brought something more exciting to the table.

“Found it in the professor’s office.”

“What!” Jean shouts, “You stole from the professor!”

“Chill,” Peter waves her off and selects the front record in the box, presenting an ‘Earth, Wind, & Fire’ record to his friends. “Looks like the professor is a disco man.”

They all scramble up from the floor, mumbling multiple exclaims of astonishment. They crowd around Peter and stare into the box as if it held a portal to another dimension. Which could hold some truth when it comes to music.

Ororo nudges Peter playfully with her elbow, “I bet Erik’s into it too.”

“Yeah. I bet it’s all gooey love songs for them.” Scott jokes.

Peter snorts but some of the titles are proving that notion to not be completely ridiculous, “Honestly, Scott might not be wrong. I mean – It’s not all of them, but there are definitely a few good ones.”

Jubilee audibly gasps, “Like what?”

Peter smirks and slips a record out of the box, making sure to shield the title from his friends. “Let’s try this one on for size,” he turns on his turntable and adjusts the speed and speakers. He lies the vinyl down and gently lowers the needle. The intro passes then the kids begin to chuckle and snort because ‘You Sexy Thing’ by Hot Chocolate is exactly the song they were hoping to find in Charles’ stash. “You got to admit it’s pretty good,” Peter comments but his friends are too busy snickering.

There is a distinct knocking pattern coming from the door that can only be Kurt, and Peter gets an idea. He cranks the master volume then wiggles around his friends to answer the door. He throws open the door dramatically and places one hand on the door frame as be begins to lip-sync at Kurt. He tenses up at the suddenness and confusing meaning of Peter’s actions but can’t help but swoon when Peter says he’s an angel. An angel isn’t exactly what people think when they look at him. He fidgets a bit and purposely avoids Peter’s gaze when he touches his finger to his chin, tilting his head upwards.

The others unleash an uproar of giggles and Peter cracks up, breaking his smooth visage. He lets Kurt off the hook and backs away from the doorframe to let him in.

“Play this one next!” Jubilee jumps in, throwing her arm up in the air while clutching a Cheryl Lynn record.

Peter kicks the door shut then takes the chosen record, switching it out on the turntable. ‘Got to Be Real’ – good choice. It’s too funky to not dance to and Jubilee is taking the lead. She sets the groove in motion with a small dance sequence and Jean and Ororo can’t resist joining in.

This is the exact reaction Peter was dreaming of when he made the choice to keep the records. Disco gives people the itching feeling to get down and boogie, which is what they should be doing on a Saturday night. Even if Kurt is immeasurably confused, he’s still grinning, and Scott’s likely only making eyes at Jean, but at least the girls are having fun rather than rotting on the floor.

There’s another knock at the door and Peter actually counts his friends to make sure they are all here. Who the fuck else would come to his door? He zigzags around his friends, and opens the door enough to pop his head out, “Sorry, I’ll turn the music down.”

“What? No!” A pair of completely random kids are beaming up at him. Maybe he’s seen them hanging around the school at some point, but he definitely didn’t know them. “Are you having a party?”

Peter knits his eyebrows and peers back into his bedroom; it’s barely what could be considered a party. “What if I am?"

“We want to join!”

He enters quiet thought then directs his attention back to the students, “Spread the word that there is going to be a party in the main foyer.”

They perk up then charge down the hallway, already banging on peoples doors to inform them.

He steps back into his bedroom and unplugs the sound system and player, stacking the cords on top so they are out of the way.

“Heeeey! What’s the deal, Pete? Did we get a noise complaint?” Jubilee pouts and sets her hands on her hips, preparing to verbally fight whoever put an end to her dancing.

“No. I just need to get you girls a bigger dance floor.” Peter pats the packed up sound system gently, “Kurt, can you teleport all this to the front foyer with care?”

Kurt nods.

“Good, because I’m throwing a dance party and you’re all invited.” Peter claps his hands together, “Now, does anyone know where I can get an extension cord to hook up the music?”

“I can go look for one,” Scott volunteers then disappears out the door.

Peter nods, impressed by his eagerness. “You three are going to help me set up the front room. Move every breakable item out of that area and into a safe space. Kurt already shattered the chandelier, we can’t afford any more mishaps.”

He slides the records back into their covers and replaces them in the box, he will hand escort these to the main room himself. Kurt grabs a speaker and bamfs out of the room, taking one item at a time to lower the chances of damaging Peter’s equipment. His plan is officially set in motion. He heads downstairs with the girls; meeting up with Kurt once all his stuff has been teleported.

Time to put in a little work so they can party all night long! They strategically set up the music on the raised section of the stairs where the stairs from each wing conjoin. Now the sounds could travel and no flailing dancers would smash into the speakers.

“Peter! Check out what I found!” Scott exclaims as he charges down the left wing stairs, holding the most glorious item Peter could ever hope to see at a time like this.

_Holy shit, yes!_

“Dude! Where the fuck did you find a _disco ball_?” A mini disco ball, but a disco ball nonetheless.

“It was buried in the closet where I found the extension cord.”

Peter’s eyes widen and he grabs Scott’s shoulders in excitement, “Scott this is perfect! The chandelier is gone and now we can replace it with the disco ball. Go find Jean. If she can build a house with telekinesis, hooking up a disco ball should be a piece of cake.”

Scott nods, hands him the power cord then runs down the central steps towards Jean.

In a few minutes the party is beginning to shape up. The sound system is hooked up; the furniture has vacated the premises thanks to Ororo and Jubilee, and Jean is attaching a fucking disco ball to the ceiling.

Wait.

“Scott! The disco ball is useless without lights!” Peter calls out.

“There were some old stage light stands in the closet. I don’t know if they work but I can go check’em out.”

He gives him a thumbs-up as approval and Scott runs off with Jubilee to retrieve them. In a short amount of time, there are three light stands strategically placed around the room, directed at the ball. The main lights go off and the blaring light from the stands illuminates the ball. Could be better but it works amazing for something so short notice. It reflected the light nicely and rotates evenly for the lights to spiral across the floor and walls.

Peter rubs his hands together and takes the godly position as DJ for the night. He flips through the records, trying to find the perfect song to get the night going. No sense in everyone standing on the wall… His lips curl into a small grin and he selects the song playing over in his head. He gently lowers the needle over the record then gradually twists the master volume till it’s at maximum. He can let Kool & The Gang tell the room to get off the wall and dance with ‘Get Down On It’.

Jean and Jubilee get things going pretty quick, Jean pulling Scott in to dance with her and Jubilee ushering in Kurt and Ororo. Kurt’s awkward but he loosens up when a crowd forms from miscellaneous students following by example.

Hours pass and Peter bangs out songs like there is no tomorrow. There may be a tomorrow but it is very unlikely they will be able to pull this whole shebang off a second time. By the time ‘Night Fever’ by the Bee Gees is playing, there are kids dancing on the stairs and singing along. The blaring music is drawing people straight out of their bedrooms and to the dance floor. He has plenty of time to witness such a beautiful sight as he leans against the wall behind the speakers. The showers are going to be absolutely awful tomorrow morning, but it will be totally worth it.

“Hey Pete,” Scott nudges his arm with his elbow and waits till they’re making eye contact, “don’t you want to come dance?”

“Oh, you don’t want me to dance.”

“Why?” Scott smirks, “Are you embarrassingly bad?”

Peter scoffs and steps closer to Scott, staring him down at a dangerously close range. “Because by the end of the song, Jean will be _my_ girlfriend.”

Scott’s jaw drops a considerable amount and he is stunned for a moment. Did Peter really just say that? “ _Bullshit!_ There is no fucking way you’re that good!”

“Are you telling me I’m not good with my feet?” If anyone is good with their feet, it’s Peter Maximoff. He cracks his knuckles with attitude then shuffles through the vinyl to find the perfect song to rub his dance moves into Scott’s face too.

 _Oh yes!_ This song has a funky groove.

He hands ‘Sunny’ by Boney M. to Scott, “Play this.” Scott almost tells him to fuck off but he wants so see if he has a bite to match his bark.

The needle drops and Peter is halfway down the stairs. He wades through the crowd and easy grooves till the kids split up to form a dance circle with him at centre stage. He needs a partner and a lovely telepathic redhead is waiting on the outer rim to be swept off her feet. He extends his arm to her and the moment their hands connect he spins her instantaneously into his arms when the lyrics burst in. The crowd hoots and hollers at the perfectly timed spin and he’s off to an amazing start.

Jean is light on her feet and Peter is a fantastic lead. He guides her so gracefully across the floor as if he’s a master puppeteer. He’s twirling and dipping her, treating her with delicate but firm finesse. There is no question to where she should be stepping next and the beat never leaves their sequence. He pulls her close, his strong hands sturdy on her waist. Even if he’s throwing a big ‘fuck you’ at Scott, he’s got to have a little fun with Jean. He gives her a bright smile and lips-syncs to her till she giggles herself silly. Of course when he mouths ‘I love you’ he can see Scott fuming and running down the steps. Mission accomplished. He takes her hand and spins her gently, twirling her so she stops with her back to his front and her arms crossing her body to hold his hands. There bodies are grooving side to side as one and the whole school is hooting and whistling.

Scott shoves his way into the circle and Peter winks at him then whips Jean into an extended spin across the dance floor, straight into his arms. It’s a beautiful set up and he catches her easily, awestruck by her breathless face.

It only took Peter half a song to get Scott boiling over with jealously. He gives him a cocky smile, “It’s not the end of the song.” Just because he can do something, doesn’t mean he’s going to. Instead he can threaten to do it just to prove his point.

He pivots to leave the dance floor but is bombarded by Jubilee and Ororo latching onto him for a double dance. Two partners is not as easy to control as one but he manages, still leading them as smoothly as before. He’s swinging and spinning them around the dance floor, relishing in the sound of their joyful laughter. True music to his ears, so lovely that he barely realizes the song is ending. He takes one of them in each hand and curls them both into his arms as his grand finale. Various students cheer while Ororo and Jubilee both plant a kiss on either of Peter’s cheeks.

He cracks up because that was beyond better than his move. He drops his arms, letting go of the girls and doubling over with laughter. Who knew it would be so much fun to dance with his friends rather than his sisters.

“Peter!” Scott shouts. He’s standing at the top of the stairs holding a record cover above his head, “This one is for you because I don’t need to be a telepath to know what we’re all thinking!”

It’s too hard to read the title in the dark but when the needle drops, Peter knows exactly what song it is. Nothing better than Scott serenading him with Sister Sledge’s ‘He’s The Greatest Dancer’. He’s never going to admit it to his face, but Scott is a pretty stellar dude.

A matter of fact, all his friends are fucking stellar.

Jean, Ororo, and Jubilee are lining up and lip-syncing at him, forcing a beaming grin to his lips. They look like a classic group of gorgeous back-up dancers. Of course now he doesn’t looks like the greatest dancer because he’s standing in the middle of a dance circle awkwardly while his friends fawn over him. He needs a new dance partner. He could dance alone but he did enough of that when he had no friends.

He circles the perimeter of the dance circle, in search of a partner. The sight of some girls actually pushing their way to the front and throwing their hands in the air to make themselves known, really jumpstarts Peter’s ego. As if it isn’t big enough already. Yet he passes them all, “What? No boys want to dance?”

He would dance with Scott but he’s too far away, and oh! Peter stands up on his tippy toes then pushes through the crowd to grab his new dance partner. Hushed murmurs of curiosity gush from bodies, wondering whom Peter is going to pull from the crowd. Finally Peter squeezes out from between partygoers and following him hand in hand is the blue embarrassed wreck that is Kurt Wagner. He’s shy and nervous but not unwilling. Peter would never force him out of his comfort zone for something so much as a dance. 

Of course he starts him out slow, taking both of his hands and leading him delicately. Being sure to keep a joyous smile upon his lips for Kurt to focus on. After all, this is supposed to be fun. Peter learns soon that Kurt needs no help when it comes to dancing. The hard part was getting him on the dance floor, but from there he takes over with fleeting confidence. Peter took lead with the girls, and attempted with Kurt but Kurt snatches the reigns from him in mere seconds. Maybe it was the circus or his heightened subconscious special awareness, but Kurt really knew his way around a stage. Peter’s renowned title of greatest dancer is taken faster than received. Now he is being spun and dipped and twirled, not a single step out of time. Nearing the final note, Kurt swoops Peter up from a dip and coils his sneaky blue tail around Peter’s waist. He yanks his tail back and shoots Peter down the full length of the dancing circle like a spinning top. Peter wasn’t expecting the tail as an appendage one could use when dancing so he trips on his own feet and sends himself topping backwards into the open arms of Ororo and Jean.

He blinks up at the girls, dazed by the spinning room and soft giggling. “Shit,” he hangs his head back to regain himself but the girls throw him back into the circle when Scott drops the needle on ‘Get on the Floor’.

What kind of party would it be without a little Michael Jackson? Scott’s rushing down from the player and the circle is closing in, moulding partygoers into a bubbly pot of bobbing heads and hands stretching to the ceiling in celebration. But Peter isn’t allowing the show to be stolen from him so easily. So he wows the crowd with moon walking and banging out any other classic self-taught Michael Jackson moves. He really has too much free time and feet that won’t quit.

The combination of party hype and killer tunes compels Peter to finish the song by sliding down the room towards the front doors on his knees. Hank’s pristinely polished hardwood is kind to his jeans and hopefully the kindness is mutual. Otherwise he would be in a lot of shit. But not as much shit as he is going to be in, in the next five seconds. The room abruptly silences, sparing choked gasps and the distinct noise of a needle trapped on an eternal loop. Peter crumples under the heavy gaze of Charles and his father as if he could be lower than his present position on his knees.

“Peter,” Charles’ voice booms over terror struck children and echoes notably loud in Peter’s ears, “you always seem to be at the centre of these affairs.”

He swallows hard, compressing his nerves deeper into his chest. His loss for words leads to his eyes flipping their gaze to Erik instead, then down to his lap. He watches the globs of white light spin over his jeans and his eyes widen. “Wait, wait, wait!” he begs the professor then scrambles to his feet.

“Peter you can’t get out of every punishment!”

Too late, Peter’s already at the sound system shuffling through the stolen box of vinyl. Hopefully the professor couldn’t tell it was _his_ stolen vinyl. _T, T, T… Ah! ‘The Trammps’._ He sets the record on the turntable and hovers the needle, gaining enough confidence to make steady eye contact with his father. _This is from Charles._

He drops the needle and a funky beat begins to play as Peter assesses the plethora of reactions. Blank faces from all but one. Professor Charles Xavier is stifling his laughter with his palm.

He knows exactly what’s coming. And what’s coming is the first line of satisfactory lyrics, causing a wave of swivelling heads, ending their rotation with all eyes latched onto Erik Lehnsherr. 

“I think that one is for you,” Charles begins, tugging at Erik’s sleeve so he will meet his gaze, “ _love magnet_.”

Peter grips the corner of a speaker, anticipating a response from Erik. So far his plan is playing out perfectly. He was hoping Charles had a sense of humour when it came to this song, and Erik was the reason he listened to it.

Erik stiffly steps into the crowd of children, “No sense in wasting a perfectly good song.” He pivots to face Charles then extends his hand palm up to him, “You owe me this dance.” He twists his wrist till his hand is palm out then rolls Charles’ chair towards him. This act would be mildly terrifying if not for their goofy grins.

The last thing Peter expected was for Erik to be the one to kick the dance party back in motion. In the blink of an eye the whole room is pulsing with excitement as if there was no interruption. At the heart of it all is Erik and Charles, boogieing down like nobody’s business!

Peter can see everything from the position of DJ and his dad really knows how to groove. Now he can thank his dad for contributing more than the X-gene into his genetic makeup.

He’s so enveloped in the vibe of the shindig, the sudden presence of Erik’s body next to his spooks him. He must have tuned out and gotten lost in the music.

“The song is ending.” Erik points out, “Do you have anything you could play for Charles?”

Oh my god, he really is his dad’s wingman. “Uh…yeah. I think I can find something,” He better be able to because these are Charles’ records. He picks out a record, having the box order memorized from going through it countless times. It also helps that it is organized alphabetically by artist. “How’s this one?” he holds up ‘Get Down Saturday Night’ by Oliver Cheatham, “It’ll remind him to not work so hard.”

Erik exhales through his nose and shies away a tiny smile.

Peter transitions the songs and leans back against the wall. Everyone deserves a break once and a while, especially someone who works as hard as Professor Xavier. The brief eye contact they make tells Peter that he got the idea, and he could swear Erik winked. Yet he doesn’t join him. He remains away from the crowd, sharing the thinly populated area with Peter. God this is fucking awkward. Every time Peter is even remotely near his father he wonders if he should tell him they are related. This seems like an exceptionally bad time but Peter could blurt out everything he’s been thinking for the past few weeks. Finally it would be done and he wouldn’t have to carry the stupid secret around with him!

_Tell him! Tell him Peter! He’s standing right there!_

Peter turns to speak but is startled by Erik’s eyes already fixed on him. He almost tenses under the unmoving stare.

“You have a-“ Erik knits his eyebrows and point to his cheek, “is that lipstick?”

Lipstick? Peter touches his cheek and his eyes widen, “Oh! Oh god.” He pulls the cuff of his jacket over his hand and rubs vigorously at his skin to wipe away the stain. Jubilee must have left a kiss mark on him at the end of their dance together. Fuck. At least it isn’t as bad as his dad catching him with a hickey. “Uh, thanks. It’s a long story,” Peter cleans his throat. _Come on dad it isn’t anything weird, promise!_

Erik’s gaze drifts and his lips hold an amused smile, as if he’s remembering a similar time in the past where he was in Peter’s position. When he was a young man with pretty girls leaving lipstick smears on his cheeks. Peter swallows; maybe one of them was his mother.

His mother no longer held the affectionate gaze of Erik and she despised the thought of it. Metaphorically and literally Erik’s sights were set on Charles, and memories of Ms. Maximoff were floating in the distant past.

“Don’t you want to go dance with him?” Peter asks when he notices Erik making heart eyes at Charles.

“What makes you think he wants to dance with me?” 

 _Aren’t you two hopelessly in love?_ “I think he would prefer it over dancing with his students.”

Erik chuckles as he watches Charles attempt to dance with Jean, stretching his arm up to spin her.

As the needle nears the edge of the vinyl Peter decides it’s time to be the best wingman he can be, “I can play something for you two.”

“What do you have in mind?”

“I’ll come up with something,” hopefully fast.

Erik shrugs then descends the front steps to join Charles on the dance floor. Peter’s face is plastered with a cheeky grin till his eyes widen in panic and he dives into the record box. First the tree and then this, he wants to be involved in his father’s life but this is getting out of hand.

Time to seal the deal and becomes his father’s official matchmaker. He places the record on the turntable and lets the funky rhythm play, waiting for a reaction when the lyrics chime in.

Okay, a mildly threatening scowl from Erik counts as a reaction. What’s the problem? ‘My Forbidden Lover’ is a sensational song by CHIC and it’s fitting for the couple. Peter doesn’t have time for Erik’s attitude. He mouths the lyrics at his dad and does the disco finger in a mocking fashion to encourage his father to dance like he promised.

He doesn’t disappoint. He boogies down with Charles but only after mirroring the disco finger till Peter breaks down with laughter.

Surprisingly the night doesn’t end after the professor and Erik get their dance together. In fact, the night is still young and they stick to the dance floor as if they are rowdy teenagers yearning to let loose and party on a Saturday night to wash away the stress of weekday responsibilities. Peter was sure they were going to turn out to be awkward chaperones or shut down the party in an instant. Not taking kids by the hand and twirling them to psychedelic sounds.

Erik whirls Jean gracefully and Charles’ eyes are overflowing with pure affection, it almost makes Peter forget to breathe.

He wonders what it would have been like if his mother was the one Erik was twirling. If Erik stayed with his mother and they had become a real family. Having dinners together and going on weekend road trips, Erik reading to him as a little boy before bed then tucking him in. Checking under his bed for monsters then pretending the monster grabbed him just to scare Peter further. His mom needed help. She needed help all those years Erik left her to fend for herself and raise children on her own. Peter offered no help in his adolescences and when his powers manifested it only got worse. She didn’t know what to do about a son with super-speed and whose go to past time activity was theft. Erik could have helped with his mutant abilities if he’d been there. He should have guided his son like a fucking father is supposed to do!

Peter chokes and rubs his jacket cuffs into his eyes. Its too late now, none of that matters. All of that is in the past and that’s why Peter came to Xavier’s school, in search of a future.

This is a family. He doesn’t want Erik to come back home to his mother because that home doesn’t belong to him anymore. He left it behind because his real home is with Charles. If Erik stayed all those years ago, that would mean he would be torn away from this life. Peter doesn’t think that in all the universes there is a single one where Erik and Charles’ paths don’t converge.

Peter keeps himself together till the party falls apart at three in the morning. At around two, students began dwindling back to their rooms and calling it a night. By the time three o’clock rolls around, Professor Xavier is shooing kids to their rooms and effectively shutting the party down. They probably couldn’t have handled another minute of it anyway.

Professor X waves off the final group of children to their sleeping quarters then fixates on the six kids who started it all, “Not you. A word, please.”

_Shit. Busted!_

The six troublemakers stands at attention, disappointed they didn’t ditch the party prematurely to avoid punishment.

“Don’t think you’re going to get out of this unpunished. Especially you-“ His stare pierces through Peter, “Mr. Maximoff.”

Peter honestly thought they were going to get away with it. By the way Charles was dancing, he was wrongfully waiting for a thank you. Clearly he was getting a little too cocky. _Thank you, Peter! For throwing a party without supervision and screwing a disco ball into the ceiling where the chandelier belongs! Oh, and a special thank you for sneaking into my office and stealing my records!_ Okay fine, they are in deep shit.

“As for your punishment, you will clean. And I don’t mean putting the lights and speakers away. I mean sweeping, dusting, and washing the floor, in _every_ room.”

“We’ll get started first thing in the morning, professor-“ Scott says, attempting to save there asses a whole exhausting night of scrubbing floorboards.

“ _No._ You will get started _now_ and you will only be finished when the entire school is _spotless_.”

Kurt _whimpers_ then Peter instantly steps forwards, “Professor! It was my idea. I can clean everything myself, let them off the hook.”

His nobility takes Charles back, impressed by his willing to take the fall for his friends.

“No way, Pete!” Jean squeezes Peter’s shoulder. “Professor, all of us are at fault. We _all_ helped put the party together, so we will all share the punishment.” The others cluster around Peter, standing unified like an unbreakable force.

“Very well.” Charles raises a single eyebrow, proud of his students for sticking with one another. “Oh. If any of you use your enhanced abilities, I’ll have you do the yard work as well.”

They groan in pain, as if they’re all being individually stabbed in the gut. They could have been done in a couple minutes thanks to Peter, but now they are going to be dusting till they die!

The professor mentally congratulates himself on an exceptional punishment and departs to his bedroom. Erik appears in the corner of the room, intending on following Charles but Peter stops him.

“Could you do me a favour?” Peter asks, grabbing Erik’s forearm.

Erik stops and turns, replying with an expectant expression.

Peter flutters his eyelashes, almost forgetting his request. He presents the cardboard box of records to Erik, “I stole these from the professor’s office. I was worried if I told him he would make me wash the cars.” He gulps, quieting himself before he nervously blurts out too much. “Could you return them? I don’t think I can sneak into his office a second time.”

Erik takes the box and nods subtly, “Good luck with your cleaning.” Without another word he disappears down the hallway, his presumable destination being Charles’ office.

“Get to work, daddy’s boy.” Scott scolds, shoving a broom into his hands. Peter exhales a lengthy sigh and sweeps.

Four excruciating hours later the kids feel like they have a personal connection to the house. They know the wood pattern like its burned into their retinas, and the stench of floor cleaning spray is embedded into their skin. They feel high off of dust particles and could recite the thread count of the curtains. There were times where Peter seriously thought they weren’t going to make it. Like when he caught Scott taking a snooze on a hallway couch and he had to whap him with a broom to wake him.

They were brain dead zombies at seven o’clock. Mindlessly, they collectively wander into Peter’s bedroom, collapsing on the nearest surface. For Peter and Kurt that meant the bed, Scott slumps down in an armchair, and the girls all shrink to the floor. Simultaneously they moan in satisfaction, relieved to be off their feet. Kurt’s hijacked the blankets into a personal cocoon and Peter couldn’t give less of a shit at the moment. Scott is sprawled out on the chair like a dead limp octopus and the girls are too drained to complain about sleeping on Peter’s dirty laundry.

“Besides torture in the form of tidiness, tonight was _amazing_.” Jubilee cuts through the quiet room, previously filled with faint groans and staggered panting. They grunt in agreement then fall back into the bone-weary silence.

“Plus,” Jean adds in a breathless fashion, “Peter’s dancing was kind of hot.”

“Kind of?” Ororo jumps in.

“That was just about the hottest thing I’ve even seen since the school was on fire.” Jubilee concludes and the girls sigh as if they are dreaming.

Peter chuckles lowly, his voice distorted by the pillow squishing half his face, “You got it, _baby_.”

Scott whips a discarded shirt at Peter and no less than a second later, sleep overcomes them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Would it really be the 80s without Peter throwing a disco party?


	6. Keep it Between Us

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Scott confronts Peter about his brother's death and Peter realizes he isn't cut out to cope with other's problems, especially when he has no many of his own.

BAM! BAM! BAM! BAM!

Peter just about jumps out of his skin thanks to the banging, instead he tumbles out of his bed onto the floor with a hollow thud. For a moment he contemplates continuing his sleep right there on the ground since he took the blanket down with him anyway. He closes his eyes, drifting off gradually.

BAM! BAM! BAM!

Holy shit! It’s two in the fucking morning! Who the fuck is trying to punch a goddamn hole through his door? Peter moans into the crumpled laundry beneath him and hauls himself off the floor. He stumbles to the door but freezes before turning the knob. Grumbling quietly, he digs through the nearest pile of clothing, whipping out some grey sweatpants. He pulls them on since whoever is outside his door doesn’t need to see him in his underwear.

He cracks open the door but the person on the other side barges in and grabs him by the collar of his shirt, plowing him into his room and slamming him into the opposite wall. Peter gasps loudly when his spine contacts the wall and his eyes snap open, slapping the sleepiness out of his brain. His lashes flutter and he attempts to focus on his attacker in the darkness.

Scott Summers?

_What the fuck?_

Scott is boiling over with rage. He starts shouting and screaming right into Peter’s face, so loud and sudden Peter can’t understand a single word he’s saying. All he can do is feel the anger radiating off of Scott in waves and it’s keeping him pinned to the wall with the same force as the fists near pinching his chest. The sound is frantic buzzing in his ears and Scott is so close it feels like he’s about to rip Peter’s throat out with his teeth at any given moment. But it’s the hints of sadness peaking through Scott’s voice that stop him from ripping Peter apart. He’s not angry. Not entirely. Frustrated and overwhelmed, yes. He’s lashing out because pain and fear are stunting his ability to communicate rationally. Peter whimpers when he’s shoved, his spinal column grinding against the wall.

“Scott.” He says, barely audibly over Scott’s rushed screeching. “Scott! You’re hurting me!” Peter wails, begging Scott to stop manhandling him, “Stop, _please_.”

Then there is silence. No more shaking or flustered screaming. Just absence. Broken by the small shaky breath slipping through Scott’s worn out voice. His hands continue to grip Peter’s shirt for dear life and hopeful stabilization from his trembling.

Peter sucks in a hushed breath and watches the hot tears rolling down from under Scott’s glasses in awe. “Fuck-“ he gasps. Scott’s fingers go limp, his grip failing and his hands fall down Peter’s chest, smoothing down his shirt in the process. It’s an apology.

His breath catches in his throat as he begins to quietly shush his friend. His hands twitch at his sides, unsure if he should make any physical contact in an attempt to comfort Scott. He certainly didn’t want to piss him off again. “Hey,” Peter kneels down slightly to get a better look at Scott’s downturned face, “what’s wrong?”

There is a noticeable attempt to speak but his words come out garbled. Peter hushes him again, realizing he needs time before he can properly speak. Silence falls among the dark room singly lit by the moonlight glistening through the drapes. Carefully, Peter reaches up, masking the slight hesitation in his fingertips; he gently wipes the tears from Scott’s cheeks with his thumbs. He frowns and leads Scott to his bed, sitting him down on the edge comfortably.

He leaves his side for a moment to shut the door, hoping the disruption they caused didn’t anger fellow students to the point of complaint. Plus the added privacy is beneficial. He didn’t need someone walking in on what he assumed is going to be a very personal conversation. Peter exhales slowly as he approaches Scott, who’s staring down at his lap and swallowing his choking sobs. The bed creaks slightly under his weight as he sits next to Scott, extending a hand to rub his back in calming circles.

They don’t need to rush into words.

Peter scans Scott, assessing the situation. He’s bare foot and wearing pyjama pants, lending to the fact that he likely made the trek to Peter’s room straight from his bed. Despite the fact that he is a recent student admitted into Xavier’s institute, his school emblem shirt appears well worn.

“If you’re so fast,” Scott pauses to suck in a shaky breath, “why couldn’t you save him?”

Peter’s lips part to speak but he closes them immediately, realizing he has absolutely no clue what Scott is talking about.

“You saved everyone else. He was just one more person. You keep bragging about being so fast but you didn’t save him.” He clenches his fists in his lap, shaking slightly, “Why didn’t you save him?”

“Scott, I don’t…” He trails off; unsure of whom Scott is referring to.

“Alex! Alex Summers! You didn’t save my _brother_!” He sputters, his face curling back into that of despair.

Every limb on Peter’s body goes numb as his heart shatters in his rib cage. The shards piercing his lungs, sending a life-threatening gasp through his parted lips.

Scott’s dealing with the harsh repercussions of his brother’s death and odds are it is resulting in nightmares or sleeplessness. He barely had the time to grieve his brother’s death before he was thrown into action. He didn’t have time to think about his personal loss while preventing the end of the world, a noble but distracting cause. It must hurt to feel the pain so late, subconsciously reopening deep emotional wounds.

Perhaps the worn-out school T-shirt previously belonged to his brother and Scott wore it with the intention of curing his bad dreams. Unfortunately ending up with opposing results.

“Scott, I…” Peter lowers his voice and takes a slow unsure breath. “I tried. He wasn’t there when I showed up. The fire already took him by the time I reached him. I would have saved him if I could. If I wasn’t…” He stares down at his lap, ashamed of himself, “If I wasn’t _late._ ” He digs the heels of his palms into his eyes and rubs, trying to force away his tears. “I’m sorry, Scott.” He squeaks, “I’m never going to be fast _enough_. I’m always too slow, always too late.”

Apologies pour from his lips and spill into garbled nonsense. This is his entire fault. He could have saved Alex’s life if he weren’t so slow. He could have spared Scott endless nights laying awake in mournful silence. Alex was one more person to save and Peter couldn’t manage to get him. He knows what it’s like to lose kin and now he was the reason there is a hole in the Summers family. A whole person vanished because of Peter’s laziness. Wiped clean from Scott’s life. If he was faster he could have saved him. If he arrived _seconds_ earlier, Alex would still walk the earth unharmed and Scott would still have his brother.

He spent ten years playing hide and seek with his father. Always failing to find him before he was on the run to another hidden location. Ten years driven by hope to destinations of disappointment. He didn’t care. It was his problem. His personal pride taking a beating every time he would return home to his mother in shame after countless failed attempts at finding Erik. His pride knew how to take a beating and he knew he could handle it. He knew his limits and he extended them to his own will.

Alex was another story. Peter’s failure to save Alex from the explosion cost more than a punch to his pride. It stabbed a hole in Scott’s life, in his family. Peter could only imagine the heartbreak of losing one or both of his sisters. Scott’s pain is real and present.

Peter doesn’t deserve to be forgiven.

He squeezes his eyes shut tight, failing to prevent tears from falling to stain his sweatpants. He’s no hero.

“P-Peter? Peter look at me.”

When Peter turns his head, Scott ‘s entire body is facing him and his legs are crossed. His expression isn’t enraged, not in the slightest, nor is it sorrowful, but that of sympathy.

There is a beat of empty silence then Scott’s hesitant hand comes up, wiping Peter’s wet cheeks with his closed fingers. The corners of Peter’s lips curl into a faint smile, “I’m sorry you lost Alex.”

Scott nods in acknowledgement. “I’m sorry for blaming you,” he drops his hand back to his lap, “it’s not your fault, I was overreacting. I know you would have saved him if you could.”

“Usually being late only affects my own shitty life. I showed up late for ten years trying to find my father.” He stares across the room absentmindedly and exhales slowly, “When I got to the school all I could think about was how I missed Erik again. I didn’t realize that me being late had an effect on someone else’s life, and cost someone their life.”

“Are you kidding? Do you have any idea how many lives would’ve be lost if you didn’t arrive when you did? Everyone would have died, not just Alex. We were lucky you showed up at all.”

Peter glances at Scott then scoots back on his bed, using the wall as a backrest while his legs are outstretched along the mattress. He shifts to the side and Scott gets the idea, scooting to the open space next to Peter, letting their shoulders meet in the middle.

“Do you think about him a lot?” Peter asks, resting his head against the wall.

“Every-damn-day.”

“I always wondered what it would’ve been like to have a brother.”

“Alex was an awesome brother.” He let out a huff of laugher, “We did all kinds of shit our mother hated. In the winter we would go sledding together and he would push me off the sled as we were going down the hill. He would hit me so hard with snowballs it felt like getting punched in the face with a clump of ice.” He grins at the memory despite the painful imagery, “We had this stupid – and dangerous – game, where we would threaten to push the other down the stairs at home by grabbing the other’s shoulders and jerking them while we were on the stairs. It terrified our mom to no end.” He pauses, considering their relationship. “We were total tools to each other. But for the most part we loved and supported each other. I didn’t feel all that scared when my powers came in because I knew Alex would be there to help.”

“That sounds really nice.” Now Peter misses Alex and he never met him. “I was usually alone.”

“Only child?”

“Nope.” He emphasized the ‘P’ with a popping sound, “I got two sisters.” He tilts his head back to look at the series of Polaroid pictures stuck to his wall. He scans briefly then reaches up, plucking a photo from its designated space. An old photo of a little of a little girl with frizzy brown hair and a bright tooth-gapped smile is presented to Scott. She’s wearing a pink tutu and carrying a fairy wand with ribbons dangling from it, topped off with a little tiara. “That’s my little sister. She’s a fairy princess. I like to think that would be her adorable mutant power if she developed one. Erik isn’t her dad though, so that might be a bust.”

“She’s adorable,” Scott smiles at the picture, then glances at Peter, “What about your other sister?”

Peter repeats his process and stretches a hand up to retrieve a second photo. Scott is presented with a rather uneventful photo of a girl with long wavy brown hair and pale slender hands shielding her face. “That’s Wanda. She really hates it when I try to photograph her.”

Scott snorts.

Peter holds the photo next to his face and twists towards Scott, “Do you see the resemblance?”

The question earns a confused expression from Scott as his eyebrows knit. She’s covering her face for Christ’s sake.

“Guess not.” Peter sits flush against the wall; “I never thought we looked all that similar, especially for twins.”

“I had no idea you had a twin.” Scott says, evident surprise in his tone. “Does she have mutant abilities too?”

“Yep.” Peter nods, “She has the incredible ability to hide from cameras at any given moment.”

Scott cracks up and Peter replaces the two photos in their respective locations on his wall. He slumps back down then silence envelopes them. Peter was hoping he could have spared the awkward silences.

“So, what happened when you got your powers for the first time?” Peter asks casually, running with the topic of mutant abilities.

“I blew the door of a bathroom stall off at school and it smashed into this asshole who was bullying me.”

“Holy shit, that’s awesome.” Peter holds his hand up for a high-five and Scott graciously delivers.

“What did you do when you got your super-speed?”

Peter hesitates briefly, “I stole stuff.”

“I don’t believe that was the _first_ thing you did.”

Peter shifts awkwardly and clears his throat, avoiding eye contact with Scott. “Uh, I don’t think I can tell you because the first thing I did was kind of…personal and…explicit?” He rubs the back of his neck nervously, hoping Scott wouldn’t make him say it out loud.

Scott didn’t get it right away; it took him a solid few seconds before it clicked in his brain. “ _Oh my god!_ “

“Shut up!” Peter backhands Scott’s chest, “I was alone a lot and my powers came in when I was a teenager! You would have done the same thing if you had super-speed!”

Scott doesn’t hear it over the sound of his deafening howling.

Peter throws an arm around him and clamps his hand over Scott’s mouth, muffling him. It’s the middle of the night and Scott has already been loud enough. He leans close to him to whisper hollow death threats into his ear. “I swear to God if you tell anyone the first thing I did was jerk off I will fucking end you.”

He’s still cracking up against Peter’s palm and admittedly Peter lets out a couple chuckles. It is pretty hilarious but Scott really needs to keep it down. Someone is going to burst in and wonder why the fuck they are being so loud at three in the morning. They are definitely going to wonder why Scott is in his room after curfew. They have gotten away with it before, but during those previous accounts they weren’t screaming in the middle of the night.

Peter unclamps his mouth when Scott quiets down. “Promise me you won’t tell.” He whispers in a rare serious tone.

“Promise.” Scott says, stifling a laugh.

Peter nods then stares straight ahead, unsure where to take the conversation next. He definitely isn’t going to work with the previous topic. His head lulls to the side and he lazily examines Scott’s profile, not necessarily processing his image. “Can I ask you one more question? It’s about Alex.”

Scott exhales as if the name triggered memories. He nods.

“What would you have said to him if you had the chance to say goodbye?” Peter asks, “You don’t have to answer. I’ll understand if you choose not to.”

“No. I’ll answer. It’s a good question.” Scott pauses, carefully formulating his feelings into words. “I think I would thank him for being supportive and looking out for me all these years. Maybe apologize for not being there during the times when he needed me the most. I mean I know I’m his younger brother but we needed each other, it wasn’t a one way street.” His words sink him back into his sorrow but each thoughtful response helps him flush out his feelings. He swallows to compose himself, “I would tell him I love him and give him a hug.” He chokes up and rubs his wet cheeks with his palm.

Peter attentively drapes his arm around Scott’s shoulders and hugs him close till his breathing steadies.

“And he would hug me – pat my back, and tell me to be good.” He sniffs, “That what he did when I last said goodbye to him before he died. I wish I had the chance to say the other stuff too.”

Peter squeezes Scott and rests his cheek upon his crown, “Trust me, Scott. He knows. You’ve been telling him his whole life. Not so bluntly but he got the message.”

Scott nods then digs his nose into Peter’s shoulder. They sit in that position till Scott’s breathing and heart rate slow to a normal pace.

“So are we cool?” Peter asks, pulling away from Scott slightly.

“Yeah, we’re cool.”

“Good.” He exhales, feeling relived his friend is at ease. His eyes wander around the room, “Do you want to watch TV?” he doesn’t think sleep is an option quite yet.

“Sure.”

Peter scoots off the bed and switches on his television, it was the newest model he stole. He flips through the channels till he finds something that isn’t boring or static. Star Trek re-runs should do it.

He had a feeling giving Scott the option to stay a while longer was better than kicking him out. He knew Scott would spend a couple hours alone in his bedroom unable to sleep. The least he could do is offer comfort till sleep washes over him.

He reassumes his place on the bed, the springs creaking as he crawls across the mattress. Scott tucks in his knees and hugs his chest.

Peter eyes his actions then leans forward, grabbing a blanket, “Sit up.” Scott gives him a look but complies. Peter drapes the blanket over their shoulders, wrapping it around them. He expected the silent response but he didn’t expect Scott’s head to grace his shoulder again.

“We are never going to speak of this again.” Scott clarifies.

“Deal.” Peter confirms.

Time passes and the twinkly Star Trek credits tune plays. Peter shifts, his ass starting to hurt because Scott has been leaning on him for an hour. He glances down at Scott and he’s fast asleep, he probably nodded off during the episode. Peter inches away from Scott, gently grasping his shoulders to lie him down comfortably along the bed. He set his head daintily on a pillow then tugs the sheets over his body, adjusting his crooked glasses over his eyes to avoid a catastrophe if he woke up unexpectedly. He wasn’t sure if Scott removed them to sleep but he could imagine the walking up process being difficult.

Peter is exhausted, but he can’t sleep. He switches off the television, letting the room go dark, then sneaks into the hallway. He moves slowly, the floorboards creaking under his weight. It would have been quieter at super-speed but he didn’t have the energy for it.

He arrives in the kitchen, not bothering to turn on the light. Instead he heads straight for the fridge, the internal light seeming blinding to his unadjusted eyes. Leftovers are unappetizing and who knows how long some of stuff has been sitting in here. He settles for the milk carton, setting it on the counter then rummages through the cupboards for cereal.

Ugh! Why does Charles only have old man cereal? Does he eat sugar? Children need sugar to function. Especially Peter when he needs to buzz out his feelings during a late night snack binge. He stood on his tippy-toes and continued to dig deeper into the cabinets. Hopefully the good stuff is hidden in the back.

_Bingo!_

He yanks out a half-eaten box of Cookie Crisp and dumps the contents of it into his bowl, then tops it off with whole milk. He replaces the cereal and milk, and then takes a seat at the wide empty dinning table.

The idle whirring of the fridge hums as a backdrop to the clinking of Peter’s metal spoon against a porcelain bowl. Unfortunately it isn’t nearly enough to drown out his anxious racing thoughts. Not even the invention of cereal made of shrunk cookies could cheer him up.

He had no problem curling up with Scott, especially with their newfound closeness. It is the fact that now he is bubbling over with problems, one being the late night guilt trip courtesy of Scott, and the other being his bottled up confession to his father. Usually his enhanced thinking speed was beneficial. He finishes his exams in seconds and can get to an answer instantly, but that is only when knows the route to the solution. Now his thoughts loop like a broken record spinning wildly to a never-ending song.

It’s fine when his tardiness fucks up his own life. Spending ten years running around the globe after his father was a waste of his own time and only his feelings were on the line. Failing to save Scott’s brother wounded a friend. It stole sleep and fuelled nightmares.

Peter chokes on a spoonful, curling up in his chair. His knees press together and he hunches over his bowl like he’s getting swallowed in to drown in the milk.

He jolts and his spoon clatters to the table when the lights flick on and a corresponding voice yelps from across the room. Peter’s head snaps up to catch Professor Xavier with his hand still ghosting over the light switch. He visibly relaxes, exhaling a breath he didn’t know he was holding.

Charles’ shoulders deflate and he ventures further into the kitchen, “I’m sorry for startling you, Peter. I didn’t realize anyone else was awake at this hour.” He shifts his weight to the opposite side, “May I ask what you are doing up so early, or late?”

Peter’s gaze slides around the room, refusing to settle on a fixed point. He shrugs and scrunches up his body as if he’s chilly, “Can’t sleep.” Eventually his eyes settle loosely on Charles, “Why are you up at four instead of five?”

Charles knits his brows, unsure of how Peter knows his sleep schedule, but sets that thought aside. “I have papers to grade, and I was just about to make a cup of tea.”

Peter nods then retrieves his discarded spoon to shovel a spoonful of cereal into his mouth, hoping to end the conversation. Charles is a lovely man but Peter prefers to keep his mouth shut for the moment being. He kept his eyes down until he found the courage to peek through his lashes. Charles was turned away from him at the counter, getting Peter’s hint and going on with his business.

He watches the professor prepare a kettle and set it upon the stove. He moves towards the sink then turns his head towards Peter, causing him to snap his eyes back down to his bowl.

“I rarely come across unwashed dishes in the sink thanks to the _anonymous_ student who kindly created this sign.”

Peter nods, not taking the praise for his handiwork. Usually he isn’t one to pass up praise but tonight he didn’t feel like he deserved anything.

“Peter?” Charles dips his head, wishing his student would meet his gaze, “I know you made the sign.”

Peter huffs and drops his spoon against the rim of his bowl, finally giving Charles his full attention. Clearly he isn’t going to be left alone. “How? Did you read my mind?” Peter says with vigour straining his tone.

“No.” Charles replies calmly, “I’m your professor. I recognize your handwriting.”

“Oh,” Peter shies away from the professor’s gaze, “right.” He pokes at the slowly disintegrating cookies floating in his bowl, hoping to keep quiet and not make a total ass of himself. He needs to take a breather and get a good night sleep. Unfortunately both of those options are unreachable with Peter’s current mental state. He couldn’t help but be out of it. He doesn’t want to continue to blab and snap at Charles just because he can’t get his own shit together.

“Peter? Is something bothering you?” Charles asks, noticing the boy’s emptiness.

Peter answers the question with a shrug but dashes to Charles’ side in an instant once he looks up. He plucks a mug out of the cabinet and sets it down on the counter. Someone must have misplaced the professor’s mug on too high a shelf, forcing him to stretch for it. They probably didn’t realize the mug belonged to the professor in the first place.

“Thank you.” Charles nods respectfully.

Peter smiles and returns to the table, flopping lazily back into his respective seat. He didn’t bother with his soggy cereal; the majority of his bowl was milk anyway. Instead he sits back and idly watches Charles make tea. Pouring scalding water a moment after the whistle sounds then delicately dunking the tea bag, finally leaving the bag to soak. Clearly he’s a fan of strong tea without modifications. His fingers curl around the handle and he slowly turns to avoid spillage, beginning to exit the kitchen. Peter’s eyes glaze over but they still follow Charles until he settles under the doorframe.

“Erik is my father,” Peter’s mouth kicks in without warning. It’s been on the tip of his tongue for days, months… _years._

Charles’ breath catches and he promptly joins Peter across the table, setting down his tea. “You do have a lot on your mind, no wonder you are thinking a mile a minute.”

 _Technically he’s faster._ “Not nearly as much as you,” he leans forward, resting his elbows on the table, “I’m sure.”

Charles scoffs, “You forget I’ve spent years learning to deal with the input. I have a greater capacity for it.”

“Consider me impressed.” Peter fiddles with his fingers, flicking his nails and anxiously cracking his knuckles. “I had to deal with a friend’s problems tonight, I can’t imagine dealing with everyone’s thoughts all the time. I can barely handle my own.” He glances up at Charles, who is listening intently rather than making a move to reply. “Erik walked out on my mom when she was pregnant with me,” he continues. Might as well spill his feelings while he has the chance, “Not because she was pregnant. He didn’t know about that, he still doesn’t. I’m not mad. Erik seems to like it here, with you.” He leans back in his chair and clicks his tongue, “Plus my mom would probably punch him if she had the chance.”

“I know exactly how that feels.” Charles says casually, sipping his tea.

“I know. I was there when you did.”

“Right,” Charles clears his throat; he was too distracted at the time to recall Peter’s presence in the moment on that day ten years ago. “Erik doesn’t tend to stay in one place. He’ll leave in due time. I’m suspecting your family was no different – my apologies for the bluntness of the statement.”

He waves him off, scoffing. “My mom barely knew what she was going to end up with,” he lowers his voice, “imagine how she felt when she got twins.”

Charles gapes softly in surprise.

“Don’t worry about it. I’m the only one stupid enough to waste my time chasing after a father who doesn’t want us.” He swallows, staring at his hands resting on the table, “You know I’m the only one willing to give him a chance. He’s not a bad guy, kind of nice actually. My mom thinks he’s awful and she said I should be afraid of him.” Peter chuckles lowly, “I’m not scared of him.” He peeks up at Charles, holding his gaze, “Especially when he’s with you. He’s so soft around you.”

Charles’ eyes widen on the verge of disbelief. But he knows it’s true.

“He buys you gifts, he planted you a tree, and he takes you out…” Peter begins to list, not registering his implications.

Charles clears his throat and drinks his tea to cover up his face. 

“I’m glad Erik likes you so much.”

Charles almost chokes on his tea but he hides it and sets the mug down steadily, “May I ask why?”

“He clearly didn’t love my mom and that’s fine. My mom hates him.” He shrugs, “They weren’t meant to be together even if they did create two fucked up kids. One who is a: ‘kleptomaniac pain in the ass’ – according to you.”

“I’m sorry I called you that.” Charles apologizes sheepishly; the seventies were not his best years.

“Nah. You’re completely right,” he shrugs it off and moves on. “I don’t know how to tell Erik, or if I should bring it up at all.”

Charles takes a deep drawn out breath, taking his time with his answer. “No matter what choice you make, Erik will inevitably leave because nothing anyone can do will make that man stay in one place. But if you tell him, there is an off chance he will take you with him.”

_He will take you with him._

Peter thoughts freeze then spin wildly around that one phrase. _He will take you with him._ He doesn’t want to leave. He found his family. Previously he thought he shared this family with Erik, but they are still a stop along the road. Erik journey takes his further but now Peter wants to stay behind. All he has ever wanted for the past ten years is to find his father and try to rekindle their father-son bond. But now he doesn’t know if it is worth leaving behind the X-mansion and his friends, _his family_.

“Take time with your decision. Erik will leave but he seems quite settled in so you have time. Don’t rush yourself, Peter. Take it slow.” Charles smirks at his own poorly timed joke. Peter doesn’t bother to acknowledge it.

“Thanks professor. I’ll think about it.” He exhales, feeling weight being lifted from his shoulders, “The talking helped.”

“You’re welcome. My door is always open if you need help.” Charles clutches his mug, “Try to get some rest. Goodnight, Peter.”

Peter nods but calls after Charles momentarily, “Do you and Erik have matching sweaters?”

He pauses under the doorway and his mouth hangs open slightly in thought, “No? I do not believe we do. Why do you ask?”

“Does that mean that purple sweater is yours? Erik was wearing it a while ago.”

“Yes, it’s mine.” he pauses, “Wait- when was he wearing it?”

“When he was planting that tree for you.”

Charles twists his face in disgust, “Ugh! What an idiot. No wonder it’s dirty!” He huffs and completely forgets Peter, getting too caught up in his complaints. He leaves the room sputtering insults at Erik.

Peter snorts once Charles disappears into the other room. He slips out of his chair and chugs the remainder of his cereal milk then washes the bowl in the sink. He trudges up the stairs, returning to his bedroom. Sleeping beauty is still knocked the fuck out. Peter groans and scoots into the bed next to Scott, dear god he hopes his glasses manage to stay on for the duration of the night. This isn’t how he wants to die. He settles on his back and closes his eyes, soon feeling the sudden weight of Scott rolling onto him. He grumbles and opens his eyes to see Scott draped over his chest lazily. He sighs and drops his head back, at least he’s warm.

“Peter.” Scott mumbles, bringing his hand up to get Peter’s attention. Ending up slapping him in the face.

“Scott! What?” Peter slaps away his hand. Maybe he will go to his own room now.

“I forgive you, for Alex. It’s not your fault.” He slaps him again – unintentionally; otherwise he is sending mixed messages. “The talking helped.”

“Yeah, the talking helps.” Peter repeats smoothly, pushing Scott’s hand away but allowing him to pass out on top of him. Peter follows moments after, his last thought being a desperate hope that no one walks in on them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Bonus:** a.k.a this [vine](https://vine.co/v/ee51r1g3xaZ)
> 
> Peter hoped they would magically wake up early and well rested so Scott could sneak to his own room before the other students were awake to see him leave Peter’s bedroom. But sleeping in till noon is the truer response. Can’t blame them after the night they had. Except those unfortunate enough to walk in on them had no idea what they were up to last night. All they know is that Scott and Peter were curled up together sound asleep. 
> 
> There is a knock at the door then various arguments mumbled through the door. The knob turns and the door opens with a click because clearly these people do not understand the meaning of privacy. Suddenly feet thump forward and a hand comes to smack against the door, sending it swinging open until it smashes into Peter’s desk chair loudly. Impatient jerk!
> 
> “WAKE UP SLEEPY HEAD!” 
> 
> Peter jolts awake groaning and digs his hands into his tired eyes. He mumbles something incoherent, feeling like he’s on the verge of crying. He is so desperate for sleep after the night before. 
> 
> Scott rises slowly when Peter starts wiggling. He drapes an arm over Peter, leaning on him for support, “What the fuck, man?” He adjusts his obscured glasses, allowing him to focus on Jean, Ororo, and Jubilee.
> 
> The girls appear wide-eyed but excited with the newfound blackmail. They sit in a silent grace period before all of them lose it and start wailing. 
> 
> Peter expresses his disgust in a grunt then flips over to continue his sleep. He doesn’t care if it’s noon or if his friends caught something potentially scandalous, he’s fucking tired. 
> 
> Scott sputters denials to the screaming girls but they run out of the room, “Where the fuck are they going?”
> 
> “Probably to spread the rumour that Peter Maximoff and Scott Summers are screwing.” Peter says casually with a yawn. 
> 
> “Fuck! Dude! I want to date Jean not you! I’m going to have no chance with her now.”
> 
> “Oh, please.” Peter waves him off lazily and twists his body so he’s lying on his stomach; “You having zero chance with Jean has nothing to do with this. It’s your ugly face and bad personality.” 
> 
> “Fuck you!”
> 
> “Didn’t you hear? We already did that.” He turns his face away from Scott, wanting to end the conversation and start sleeping again. “Now shut up and either go to sleep or get out.”
> 
> Scott grumbles as he slides back under the toasty blanket with Peter. He's doubtful the girls would truly spread such a rumour but nevertheless they need to be well rested for whatever occasion should arise.


	7. Check and Mate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A night of peaceful but hollow attempts to study gets interrupted by petty arguments, so Peter ditches the scene and discovers a pleasant evening in an unexpected place.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this chapter took ages! I finished my first term of University and I plan on finishing this fic before the new year. Hopefully that is manageable with all the free time I have during my break.

Fortunately, the girls did not run off to spread the outlandish rumour that Scott and Peter were caught sleeping together and were soon to be the X-Mansion’s hot new couple! Peter was worried he would wake up to a banner strung in the main foyer and students sprinkling confetti upon the new happy couple. Geez, one minute he’s caught in bed with a guy, the next his friends are rushing them down the aisle. And with _Scott?_ His friends must really think he has zero standards.

Unfortunately, the girls did run off to gossip to Kurt about their scandalous findings. They didn’t receive the reaction they were seeking, since Kurt didn’t seem to think the situation was all that interesting. He has had one-on-one sleepovers with Peter, and the three of them spend the night together on a regular basis. There was nothing abnormal about Scott and Peter having a sleepover.

The girl’s reaction _almost_ made Peter wish he and Scott were the school’s new hot couple. _Almost._

They wasted no time when it came to stomping angrily into Peter’s room immediately after their conversation and yelling at them for having secret sleepovers. Peter wanted to cry. All he was asking for was some damn peace and quiet to get a solid sleep, but no! First Scott came in screaming and then the girls.

Good news is that the girls let the boys off the hook, right?

Wrong.

Three weeks have passed and the girls still refuse let up about the ‘boys only’ sleepovers.

At least now they are sitting together comfortably in the common room. No bitter feelings could fester among comfy casual clothes and a plethora of fluffy pillows and soft blankets. Their set up is more ideal for sleeping rather than studying. Which is probably why barely any studying is getting done. Peter and Scott sat at the ends of the couch with Ororo thrown across them, her feet on Peter’s lap and back against Scott’s shoulder. Jean, Jubilee, and Kurt are splayed around the coffee table curled up with blankets and propped up on pillows. Notes are thrown across every flat surface and textbooks sit comfortably in laps.

They are a terrible group of procrastinators leaving all their studying till Sunday night, but at least they are in it together!

“Isn’t this nice?” Jubilee says, getting everyone’s attention easily since no one is actually reading, “All of us hanging out together and not having secret ‘boys only’ hang outs.”

Peter sighs dramatically, “Let it go!”

“NO!” The girls yell angrily in unison.

“Are you seriously telling us that you three don’t hang out without us? You have to want girl time away from us.”

“Of course we hang out without you.” Jean says, as if that confession didn’t solve the problem completely, “But we don’t have secret ‘girls only’ sleepovers.”

“That is such bullshit!” Scott declares, striking a match of fury.

They break into a petty argument like usual. Every time this topic gets brought up they start fighting about it. It’s getting childish and pathetic. Peter can’t speak for anyone else but he is sick and tired of constantly fighting with his friends about something so ridiculous. He hopes for a day where his waking hours are free from trivial arguments.

A book slams against the wood of the coffee table and everyone visibly jumps, yelping spontaneously as they snap their heads towards the sound. Amazing crowd control, Scott. He sure is on his way to becoming an amazing team leader, but today is not that day. His progress is slow but steady.

“Listen! There is nothing wrong with us grouping off within the group. I am sure the girls want girl time just like how the guys want guy time. It’s not a big deal. Us guys love hanging out together, and that doesn’t mean we don’t like hanging out with you.” Scott adds, effectively bringing the argument to civilized ground.

“What do you guys even do without us?” Jean asks.

Peter shrugs, “I don’t know. Talk about cute girls! It doesn’t matter! The point is that I want to be a moron with Scott and Kurt.”

“Ooooh!” Jubilee grins mischievously, “Who are the cute girls?”

Peter lets out an exasperated sigh, “See? This is why we don’t invite you.”

“We have a lot of feelings we need to share.” Kurt adds suddenly and the girls ‘aww’ at them.

Scott sinks his face into his hands and whispers ‘oh my god’ under his breath, ashamed it is embarrassingly true.

Even if Kurt said it in a way that made them sound like total sappy losers, Peter is obliged to agree. “In all honesty, we love you girls. But sometimes we need time to be stupid guys or I guess talk about our feelings, thanks Kurt.” He nods towards him acknowledging his contribution even though it made their sleepovers sound like sappy movie nights with ice cream and tissues. When in reality it was hours of Peter tossing candy for Kurt to catch in his mouth while Scott blabbed about his feelings for Jean. “I know you need time to bitch about us.” Peter claims, “I am openly inviting you to get together to gossip about us, why would you turn that down?”

“I’m on board.” Jean comments after brief contemplation, “They boys are annoying as hell sometimes, of course I could complain about them all night.”

“Oh, come on, they aren’t all annoying.” Jubilee adds, “Definitely not Kurt. I mean, he’s a little dorky but he has the cutest hair and smile.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Peter can see a shy grin bloom on Kurt’s face. The girls are completely correct.

Ororo sits up eagerly to join in, almost kicking Peter’s textbook across the room, “But what about Scott?”

“What about him? Do you think he’s cuter than Kurt?” Jubilee asks with an obvious disgusted tone that almost makes Peter snort.

“What? Ew, no!” Ororo clarifies, scrunching her nose distastefully. “I meant he’s annoying. He always does that stupid thing where someone pisses him off then threatens to put them through a wall with his optic blasts. We all know he’s never going to actually do it. All he has to offer are hollow threats.”

“Can you blame him? He doesn’t pose much of a threat otherwise.” Jean comments, “Without his powers, he’s just a lame teenager.”

“He’s a lame teenager _with_ his powers.” Jubilee concludes and the girls snicker.

Peter should be ashamed of laughing at his friend, but the girl of Scott’s dreams just called him a wimp and nothing could satisfy Peter more. He stops when Scott gives him his well-deserved kick to the ribs.

“Okay so Scott is the most annoying, but Peter is the most pathetic.” _Ouch._ Jubilee is clearly enjoying herself. “He’s the oldest but he just moved out of his mom’s basement.”

Peter snorts because he knows he’s a total loser.

“Also he’s too cocky when it comes to his speed, y’know? Telling people he’s fast isn’t going to get him very far his love life. Unless he knows how to take it slow where it counts.”

“Doubt it!”

Peter’s face twists into that of horror when the girls go into an uproar of laugher. He grabs a pillow off the couch and smacks the girls. “HOLY SHIT! WAIT TILL WE’RE GONE!” he screams while batting at the girls frantically. Once they quiet down to stuttered giggles he sits back, hugging the pillow to his chest. He pouts, feeling thoroughly embarrassed. Why did he have to be friends with a bunch of awful jerks?

“Oh, Peter. How did your meeting with the professor go?” Jean asks, sparing him any further humiliation.

“What meeting?”

“Wha-? I told you he wanted to see you.”

“What? When?”

“This morning. When you were playing video games with Scott.” She pauses, ”You weren’t listening, were you?”

Peter clears his throat awkwardly, “I may have been a bit preoccupied?” Shit, he let the professor down. He flips the pillow off his chest then slips off the couch, “Fuck, I’ll go see him now.” Peter dashes out of the room, barely catching what Jean says about office hours.

Apparently office hours mean something because the professor isn’t in his office. Peter groans then zips through the halls, searching for the professor. It’s after hours so he’s probably spending his time recreationally, whatever that may be. It most likely involves Erik. What on earth do real adults do in their down time? Peter freezes, peering down the hall through slightly parted doors.

Chess.

Real adults play chess.

He creeps up to the door and spies on the couple. Peter has no idea how people can stay dressed nicely during after hours, unless they’re on a date. That would explain the fancy alcoholic drinks and the way one gazes at the other while he decides on his next move. He feels like a kid who just caught his parents being mushy and gross together, exclusively because of the itching need inside him to kill the mood.

A devious smile curls on his lips and he zips into the room for a moment to move Charles’ knight one square to the left. Next he goes after Erik’s bishop, inching it forward by a space. Not quite as hilarious as the time he moved Scott’s bedroom furniture an inch to the left every day till his bed was against the wall but it’s sufficient. He continues inching pieces to various spaces on the board then evacuates the room. He presses his back to the adjacent wall and listens for a response, a sly grin never leaving his face.

There is silence, followed by confused muttering, an annoyed sigh, and then “Peter!”

Peter snickers to himself then pokes his head into the room innocently, “Yes Professor? Did you call me?”

Erik sits back in his chair, touching the rim of his glass to his lips to hide his smile.

Charles isn’t so amused. He sighs deeply, “I did indeed call for you, this morning at about ten o’clock. For someone so fast, I would think you would be capable of showing up on time.”

_Damn._ Peter slouches against the doorframe, ashamed for not listening to Jean. He keeps his head low and eyes wandering, not wishing to make eye contact with Charles. “Sorry, Professor. It’s my fault. I wasn’t listening to Jean when she passed the message to me this morning. Better late than never, right?” He laughs awkwardly; he didn’t believe that saying had any truth. He had plenty of experience being too late thanks to the man across from Charles.

Charles offers a sympathetic sigh and shakes his head, “Sit down, Peter.”

He steps in the library and gently closes the door before crossing the room. He grabs an extra armchair, carrying it to the small table containing the chessboard and setting it down between Charles and Erik. He slumps down in the chair but straightens his posture when he realizes how underdressed he is in sweats and a shirt; at least his silver bomber jacket is slightly redeemable. He probably should have stopped at his bedroom to change first.

They sit in silence while Charles recalls the reason for the meeting in the first place. Peter keeps glancing over to Erik, noticing he is making zero effort to leave the room. Is he planning on staying for this? Is he the _reason_ for this meeting? Peter’s eyes widen and he stares at his knees. Charles wouldn’t do that to him, he wouldn’t tell Erik. But maybe Erik doesn’t know and Peter is here to tell him. He’s not ready! He’s _never_ going to be ready!

“Peter,” Charles begins, sipping his drink then setting it down on the table gingerly, “There have been complaints about theft in relation to you.”

Peter gasps quietly and snaps his head towards Erik, pointing an accusing finger. “Did you tell on me? Come on, dude!” he tosses his hands up in defeat, slapping them down lazily on the wooden arm rests of his chair.

Erik blinks slowly, staring at Peter with a dull expression. “No,” he says coolly, “but you did just tell on yourself.”

“What are you two talking about?” Charles cuts in since Peter rudely interrupted him.

“Nothing! Nothing.” Peter yelps in a weak attempt to scrape up his accidental confession.

Erik clears his throat in preparation to speak and Peter swallows anxiously. It doesn’t matter if he tries to scrape together an alibi because Erik will rat him out anyway. He wouldn’t lie to Charles for the sake of some kid.

“It’s _nothing,_ Charles. Don’t worry about it.” He says smoothly. He turns his head to glance at Peter and winks. _This is their little secret._

Peter blinks; astonished Erik had his back for no reason. He flashes him a brief smile then turns to Charles, seeking a response.

Charles huffs annoyed with the secrecy but too kind to force the truth from them. “Peter,” he starts anew, “I have been receiving numerous complaints from students regarding the disappearance of personal items.”

“Maybe they should check the lost and found.” he cuts him off, “Maybe we should get a lost and found!” He stands proudly, “I will take it upon myself to start a petition to have a lost and found! Thank you for bringing this to my attention!”

“Sit down, Peter.”

He complies, shamelessly flaunting a cocky grin. A smile that only grows wider when he catches a glimpse of Erik’s impressed face.

“Items are disappearing due to theft, _not_ because of misplacement or lack of a lost and found!” Charles knits his brow and shakes his head, “Wait, we have a lot and found. It’s near the grand staircase.”

_Or as Peter likes to call it: The free stuff box._

“You can count on me, Professor! I’m the best detective you could hire. I’ll get the others to help me too, we can over more ground that way.” He springs up from his seat, “I promise we will bring down the thief and restore justice to this noble institution!” He touches the tips of his fingers to his forehead and salutes.

Erik casually shields his mouth with his hand, failing to hide his obvious laughter.

Charles pinches the bridge of his nose, his patience thinning. “Sit. Down. _Peter_.”

He sits obediently. Despite Erik’s laugher being rewarding, pissing off Charles is not a good idea.

“Erik!” Charles snaps, “Quit it! You’re enabling him!”

His features struggle to keep composure and the corners of his lips fail to uncurl, exchanging his childish snickering for a fond smile. “I didn’t do _anything_ ,” Erik says with a slight shrug of his shoulders.

“Don’t give me that face. You know very well what you’re doing!”

“Honestly Charles, I have no idea what you mean.”

In an instant, a fight breaks out between them. Nothing major, just a series of playful remarks and sassy comments. The occasional stumbling over profanity when the couple realizes Peter is in the room. A cheesy smile spreads across Peter’s lips as his eyes flick back and forth between his bickering parents.

Peter tenses and swallows, catching up with his escaping thoughts. _Parents._ Maybe he’s getting ahead of himself or letting his mind wander too far but thinking of Erik and Charles as his parents must have some meaning to it. His imagination didn’t have to stretch far for him to recognize Erik as his father, but Charles was a different story he couldn’t put his finger on. Is it because of his relationship with Erik? Most kids wouldn’t adjust to a stepfather so easily. Although, he wasn’t technically a stepfather since they weren’t married. On the other hand, it could have nothing to do with Erik. Charles has offered nothing but respect and kindness to Peter since his decision to stay at the school. His heart was big enough to shelter numerous children in need and give them education and a home. He dedicated time to each student, Peter included. He’s a natural father figure.

Peter jolts when the base of Charles’ drink contacts the table with too much vigor. He has seen this man throw a punch, and he isn’t sure Erik’s face can take another blow. He has a feeling Charles was holding back ten years ago, so he must have some oomph left in his fist. Peter leans forward and holds his palms against their chests, “Okay, break it up.” He separates them gently then tilts his head towards Charles, “I will make efforts to stop stealing from other students, but old habits die hard so don’t expect instant improvement.” He retracts his hands and rests his elbows on his knees, as he remains leaning forward.

“And you must return all stolen items to their rightful owners,” Charles shifts his weight to the opposite armrest, “then we have a deal.”

“Deal.” Peter extends his hand, waiting expectantly. Charles complies, sealing the deal with a solid handshake.

“What have you stolen?” Erik inquires, interrupting their moment.

Attention shifts and Peter breaks the handshake, stuffing his fists in his jacket pockets with a nonchalant shrug. “Anything I want and can get my hands on I suppose,” he straightens his spine and buzzes his lips idly, recalling various items. “Y’know, small stuff. Gum, candy, hats, shoes…” he trails off to a pause, “and your wallets when I walked in.” He yanks two lumps from his pockets and drops their respective wallets on the table.

They both fumble for their pockets in disbelief then angrily glare at Peter.

“What? I was going to return them!” He holds his hands up in defence, “It was a joke! Lighten up.”

“ _Aren’t you a quick little smartass?”_ Erik mumbles into his martini.

In the next split second Erik’s beverage is sitting pretty between Peter’s fingers and he’s reclined coolly with a playful smirk across his lips, his appearance bearing a painful resemblance to his father. “A quick little smartass you should be thanking for breaking you out of jail.” He touches the glass to his lips and tips it back, downing the remaining liquor. He sets the empty glass on the chessboard with a muted clink then locks eyes with Erik.

Erik stares back in impressed astonishment and Charles takes his turn to chuckle behind his drink, capturing Erik’s attention in an instant.

“My god, Charles. Are you encouraging underage drinking at this institute? Appalling.”

“I know it’s shocking, but I am in my twenties.” Peter clarifies, barely believing it himself. He is the oldest of his friends but definitely not the most responsible. “I could not have done that on my first drink.”

His words fall empty in the frozen air between Charles and Erik. The air feels softer and their actions are reduced to a minimum. Peter blinks and stares across the room. He fixates on the face of a clock, exhaling in relief when the seconds hand ticks at its regular rhythm. For a moment he felt like he slipped into super speed and the world around him hummed in slow motion. But only the space between Erik and Charles hummed slowly. Gentle grins form lazily and an uncomfortable feeling stirs in Peter’s stomach. He doesn’t want to be witnessing any of this, and judging by the raise of Erik’s eyebrow there could be telepathy involved. Peter shudders, eradicating those thoughts from his brain.

He clears his throat loudly, scooting forward in his chair. “Sorry I ruined your chess game,” he exclaims loudly, attempting to break up the awkwardness and bring them down to earth. He sets the empty glass to the side then resets the board in an instant.

Charles breaks away first, “Thank you, Peter. Don’t worry about it. I am sure Erik would have lost again anyway.”

Erik rolls his eyes, “Never play chess with a telepath, Peter. Notorious cheaters.”

Peter shrugs, “I’ve beaten Jean a couple times and she is not above abusing her telepathy when it comes to games. Partially because it bothers Scott so much.” The other part being that she is relatively average at chess without telepathy, so Peter’s immunity levels the playing field. Scott can never beat her but she’s an even match with Peter when he isn’t abusing his powers, which isn’t often. He puffs out his chest confidently, “I’ll challenge the professor.”

Charles’ lashes flutter in confusion, completely bewildered by Peter’s proposal. Peter may not be the brightest kid of all time, but jeez, the look is a bit excessive. It’s not like they are engaging in a potentially fatal activity, it’s a game of chess for god’s sake. Peter rolls his eyes and scoots his chair forward, tucking in his legs for comfort. He tilts the chessboard so it’s properly inline with Charles and him.

“Well,” Erik stands, snatching his empty glass from the table, “If this is happening, I’m getting another drink.” He strides across the room to the liquor cabinet, “Peter, would you like one?”

He glances up receiving zero protests from Charles regarding Erik’s offer. “Sure, I’ll have one.” He sets his eyes on the board and makes his first move since he took over Erik’s white pieces. He flashes Charles an awaiting look until he caves and makes his move.

The second Charles’ piece is set in its square; Peter makes his next move at an alarming speed. Charles processes slowly before countering. This continues, the game progressing at a rate well out of Charles’ comfort zone. Erik joins leisurely, delicately setting Peter’s glass beside him. Peter is too enveloped in the game to recognize Erik’s gesture but he makes a mental note to thank him after the game is over. Which should be soon judging by Charles’ inability to keep up with Peter’s erratic moves.

“Checkmate.” Peter says, capturing the opposing king between his fingers. He idly fiddles with it and leans back in his chair smugly. Charles stares blankly at the board as if his brain is still five moves behind.

Erik chokes on his drink. Not out of surprise, but because he is overcome with a fit of uncontrollable laughter.

“You think you could do better?” Charles barks.

Peter likes that idea. He resets the board and places it in front of Erik. “Or would you prefer,” he presses the tips of his fingers to the corner of the board and swivels it till Erik has the white pieces, “this.”

Charles snorts, clearly enjoying Erik’s painful humiliation. Even better knowing it is from his son. He loves Erik to the ends of the earth but he deserves a little playful embarrassment to lighten up his soul.

The game begins once Erik finishes scowling. He is noticeably worse than Charles and loses twice as fast. “Checkmate.” Peter tips over his king then gingerly sips his drink, “and thank you for the liquor.”

“Try to take your time with that, it’s a martini not a shot.” Erik condescends, adding sharp emphasis on the final consonant. He couldn’t be more obviously bitter about his crushing defeat.

“Oooh, were shots an option?” Peter leans forward and resets the board. “How about this?” he lines up the board with the corners of the table so Erik and Charles are the players, “We rotate players based on the outcome of each game. For every piece a player loses, the bystander pours them a shot. Once someone wins the two players take their shots and the bystander takes the loser’s place.”

“As if either of us would allow _you_ to do shots.” Erik crosses his arms defensively, refusing to take orders from a kid.

“Sadly Erik is right for once.” Charles clears his throat, “If it were not a Sunday night I would be open to the idea. But I do not wish to have a hangover tomorrow morning when I am supposed to be teaching, and I would hope you feel the same way about your Monday morning classes, Peter.”

Peter slumps back in his chair and pouts playfully. A part of him was hoping they would be crazy enough to try and out-drink him. “Fine. But since you would be open to the idea on a better night, you both owe me a drinking game.” He tilts his head, gauging how far he could stretch their relationship status. “Next weekend? Friday night?” Peter’s eyes flick between them, awaiting a reply.

“I’m in.” Charles agrees easily. He probably hasn’t engaged in too many drinking games in a while. “Let’s see how easily I can outplay _and_ out-drink Erik.”

“Just for that, I’m in.” Erik retaliates, “I am taking you down as soon as the young one is out of the way.” He juts his thumb towards Peter; confident he can out-drink a student. “Which should be when? After about _two_ rounds?” Erik sneers.

“Yeah yeah, laugh it up. We’ll see how you feel when you’re both sad and crying on the floor, completely drunk off your asses. Meanwhile I will be walking out of here in a weeks time, gleaming with pride.” Peter sips his drink confidently as the other two scoff, firmly believing him to be a lightweight.

“No sense in fighting about it now.” Charles concludes, “We will find out in a weeks time.” He drops the subject and nudges Erik’s knee, ushering him to start a new game of chess.

Erik complies and Peter sinks back in his chair to watch idly. Chess is a relatively boring and slow game but watching Erik and Charles play felt different. He didn’t feel awkward for extending his stay well into the night. Nor did he feel awkward allowing Erik to pour him a drink or swap in and out of games. It felt good. It felt like he found a welcoming space for himself, a little _family_ between the three of them. He found himself gradually adjusting to ‘stepfather’ as a synonym for Charles. More so than the comfort he felt referring to Erik as his father. It wasn’t long before the chess games turned into small conversations allowing Peter to listen in. Conversations about students, classes, mutation, and the past, waft through the air. Occasionally poking into Peter’s exhausted brain, pulling him back to consciousness for only a moment. Peter drifts off. His dreams spurring from the last word spoken between the couple before he lost consciousness.

_Beach._

Hot white sand and deep solid seas fill his dreams. Tides roll rhythmically up and down the sandy shore while cool winds shake trees and guide birds. The open sky blends into the ocean, creating unity amongst natural surroundings. Two other men occupy the beach, silently arguing with venomous tongues that once bled sugar in previous conversations. The peacefulness washes away with each swipe of the tide, overcome by tension and dark clouds. The beach flips. Darkness from the sky pours into the sea and sand. Peter feels like he’s sinking, his feet caught in a whirlpool of black sand. He is waist deep when he grasps desperately for solid land and calls out to the two men, but they have vanished. He gets sucked under.

Peter whines quietly in his sleep, hugging his torso tighter and nuzzling his face into the collar of his jacket.

His dream shifts. The darkness opens up to reveal blurry warm tones flickering steadily. Peter inhales deeply at the feeling of hospitable arms wrapping around him. Now he feels at home, safe and secure. He sighs contently and his head lulls to the side, unexpectedly contacting a warm body. His eyes pinch shut briefly then peek carefully. A familiar worn grey suit jacket greets him, soft against his cheek. Then his eyes slip shut, overtaken by sleepiness.

The next moment his eyes open he witnesses a figure disappear from his bedroom, closing the door with a soft click. He stirs further, pushing at the blankets suddenly at his shoulders. He sits up on his elbows and peers around his dim bedroom. For a tired moment his mind goes blank and he isn’t sure how he got there but then he remembers the warm arms, grey jacket, and the figure slipping out of his room. He huffs and flops back on his mattress, tugging the blankets over his head as he twists to face the wall. He forces his eyes closed, refusing to acknowledge that Erik carried him to bed.

His father _finally_ tucked him into bed after twenty-some years of absence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chess + Mild sexual tension = Cherik at its finest


	8. Say Goodbye and Don't Look Back

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Erik decides to leave the mansion and Peter needs to catch him before he's too late. Again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's all folks!
> 
> I watched X-Men: Apocalypse again yesterday to treat myself for finishing this fic! It is fantastic as usual. 
> 
> I promised I would finish this fic before the new year and I keep to my word, don't I? Thank you to everyone reading this piece, and the special thank you to the people who have been reading since chapter one. You're all lovely! I adored writing this fic and it's rewarding to see it finally complete. I have plenty of stories being planned, most of which are X-Men. So stay tuned for that if you are interested with more stories about Peter! 
> 
> Thank you! Love you! ♡

Peter may have gone a little overboard when the professor announced he would be rebuilding the X-Men. Being excited is one thing, but screaming and accidentally swinging his hand into Scott’s face so fast he knocked him to the floor was a bit excessive.

For the future, Peter will have to work on faking a surprised reaction, especially since he actually has friends to throw him surprise birthday parties now. He might end up unintentionally punching Scott’s lights out. Then again, that might make for a lively party.

He was the only member who knew about the recruitment plans prior to the professor’s semi-public announcement. Charles ended up blabbing about it when he was drunk off his ass thanks to Peter defeating him during their much-anticipated drinking night. It was a sweet confession. He drawled on and on about how proud he was of his students for being so brave during the whole encounter with En Sabah Nur. After that he knew it was time to put the X-Men back together.

The drinking game was spectacular. Erik and Charles were planning on going head to head after Peter was out of the way, but they learned soon enough that there was cheating involved. Oh right, Peter _forgot_ to mention that he is _incapable_ of intoxication due to his rapid metabolism. Fortunately enough, Peter doesn’t need alcohol to do stupid shit on a regular basis and getting his father and teacher completely wasted compensated for his sobriety.

It was unfortunate for Erik in particular because he had prepared a strategic plan to ensure his win. Charles and Peter declared it an exceptional strategy when Erik was drunkenly exposing his secret to victory. First, he was counting on Peter being a lightweight and getting knocked down a few notches by the initial shots Charles insisted upon. Hopefully a slightly tipsy Peter would be an even match with Charles and they could go a couple rounds pouring a fair amount of liquor into each other. Once Charles was drunk enough to not be thinking straight, Erik would take over and conceivably be able to win enough rounds against two moderately drunk men until they forfeited.

Erik didn’t get so lucky.

In actuality, Peter’s winning streak grew with each passing round because the alcohol was having zero affect on his body while his opponents became increasingly more inebriated. An absolutely cunning plan on Peter’s part, he must get it from his father.

They reluctantly crowned Peter the champion and he forged himself a paper crown for the occasion since the other two were too drunk to be trusted with scissors. Initially, they were planning to declare a ranking. But when Peter exposed the secret to his eternal sobriety, Erik cursed and slammed an unfinished shot down on the edge of the board so hard he flipped all the pieces onto the floor along with a splatter of alcohol to soak into the carpet. Everyone was either too drunk or too lazy to redeem the board.

Peter was worried that without the distraction of chess Charles and Erik would get uncomfortably touchy in his presence while under the influence of alcohol. Thankfully they didn’t, but they might have if Peter wasn’t there. They were too pissed off at him for cheating to be affectionate, just giggly and frustrated. Hopefully they weren’t too annoyed with him for lying, because he would drop the drinking games if it meant he could continue to tastefully drink with Charles and Erik during after hours.

The night was pretty easy going from there. Peter retrieved snacks from the kitchen then lounged lazily across a couch with his hand shoved in a bag of chips while Charles and Erik churned out wisdom in the form of drunken dating advice. He had zero interest in dating but it was fun to listen to once Erik stopped giggling every time Charles told him not to go too fast in his relationships.

“Love is an annoying _bitch,_ Peter. Your heart could get tied to someone who creates knots and tangles the thread, but you both refuse to cut yourselves free. Neither of you truly want to because the result isn’t freedom, it’s longing for what could have been. Instead you play an endless game of reeling each other in, only to lose your grip and start again.” Charles said.

“Love can also scatter your heart across the grid, causing you to do more tangling than untying. Your heart may skip and yearn, pulling you in a million different directions. Sometimes you tie yourself to someone, then you cut it in a fury or the cord snaps. You lose so many loved ones.” Erik said, “Don’t be like me, Peter. I’ve lost too many families and abandoned ones I didn’t have the chance to start.”

Peter remembers his throat closing when those words left Erik’s mouth. He remembers tearing his eyes away from Erik’s then catching Charles’ sympathetic gaze.

If only he could get drunk so he could rely on liquid courage to tell Erik. Get tipsy enough to have said, _“You didn’t lose everyone! I’m your family and you may have drifted but you didn’t lose me. I’m your son!”_

Instead he swallowed those words and they felt like molasses oozing down his throat.

Thankfully Charles didn’t choose to reboot the X-Men the morning after that night. He was probably too hung-over to do so. Peter was busy dealing with an emotional hangover, and he isn’t sure which one was worse. He woke up at a reasonable time, but the second Erik’s words seeped back into his mind he flipped over and passed out till noon.

The next time he woke up was when his friends burst into his room and loudly asked why he is still in bed. “Went out drinking last night,” was his only response before he buried his head under his pillow.

About three days after that, Charles announced he was getting the band back together and Peter haphazardly punched Scott in the face.

Now they are absolutely annihilating their first training session. Giving Peter the solid confidence boost he desperately needed. Raven’s speech was a slap to another reality. He’s not some pathetic good-for-nothing teenager who lives in his mother’s basement and steals for a living anymore. He went head-to-head with a God and lived to tell the tale. He’s a member of the X-Men! In-training. He needs to keep a level head otherwise he will end up doing more reckless shit and get his leg snapped again.

Their first training session is nothing but successful. It’s all high-fives and pats on the back as they exit the training room. That’s the first time this week Peter has smiled that brightly. They knew the sessions would only get harder from there but they couldn’t help but bask in pride. They have a long obstacle covered path ahead of them, but little victories like completing their first training session, deserve rewards. Ideally in the form of pizza!

They settle on pizza place a couple miles away, with the most delicious milkshakes. Peter knows he’s treating himself to a peanut butter milkshake, even though it isn’t quite a ‘treat’ since he never once has denied himself any sort of pleasure. Scott offers to drive then Peter volunteers him to pay, and they collectively decide to meet at the front of the school after changing into normal clothes.

In the excited commotion, Peter’s eyes swept across the hallway, catching a glimpse of Charles. He is expecting to be greeted by a proud face; instead it is one of remorse. Peter’s eyes flick frantically, the empty air around Charles causing his stomach to twist.

“Uh, hey guys?” Peter says slowly, tilting his head towards his friends. “Go on without me, I’ll meet you there.” He didn’t hear their response over the deafening sound of his blood pumping in his ears.

He’s halfway to Charles, each heavy step sinking his heart deeper into his chest.

“What happened?” Peter starts, “Where did he go?” He keeps his gaze locked on Charles, hoping that if he refused to look around there would be a possibility of Erik standing behind him.

“Erik is-“ Charles takes a shallow breath, “Erik is _leaving._ ”

Peter tenses and his fingers twitch at his sides, “I have to find him.” He takes a couple staggering steps backwards then bolts through every hall in the house, hoping he isn’t too late.

He almost skids into the wall when he finds his father. Luckily he’s still packing up the last of his stuff in Charles’ bedroom. Peter takes a step forward then freezes in the doorframe. _What the fuck is he doing?_

His mouth goes dry when Erik notices him. Erik straightens his posture and gives Peter a curious look, “May I help you?”

Peter remains frozen in terror, feeling like he’s going to be sick. He exhales slowly and crosses the room in quick strides till he collides with his father, wrapping his arms around him tightly. Peter presses his cheek to Erik’s chest and squeezes his eyes shut, savouring the touch. Erik’s familiar arms wrap around him cautiously. Peter’s fingers twist in the fabric of Erik’s suit jacket as he wills away his tears. The action feels long overdue. “Have a safe trip,” Peter says softly to start. “Don’t leave for too long, the professor will miss you.” He continues, gradually becoming confident in his words, “It was nice getting to know you.”

_And…_

“And,” Peter leans back and makes eye contact with Erik, “remember that there is always a family waiting here for you.” A soft smile curls on his lips and he steps back. He puffs out his chest, feeling steady and grounded where he stands.

“Goodbye.” _Dad._

The confusion on Erik’s face melts into a soft smile, _almost_ identical to Peter’s. “Thank you. Goodbye, Peter.”

Peter pivots on his heel and marches out of the room. He trudges through the halls, admiring spaces that surrounded him for months. Down the hall is where he broke up a fight, and in the opposite direction is where he started one. Around the corner is where he carried Scott on his back and sang about how untruly awesome Scott is thanks to losing a bet. That’s also where some jerk shoved him into a pretty girl and he fell on her. Talk about embarrassing. Each hallway has different memories he’d created over the past few months, some with his mess of a friend group and some alone to share as stories later. He didn’t want to leave those stories behind. He wants to relive them by simply walking down the hall and letting his memories take over. He wants to conjure new stories until every inch of the mansion contains a memoir.

He shakes away the memories as he pushes open his bedroom door. He slumps down on the edge of his bed and begins yanking off his boots. He strips, occasionally cursing at the complexity of Hank’s handiwork. He piles his clothes on the floor then flops back on his mattress, only in his underwear.

“Hey Erik,” Peter says aloud, “I’m your son.” He sighs. Maybe he should have told him. The words came so easily to him now.

_But…_

_“If you tell him, there is an off chance he will take you with him.”_

Standing in the doorway, those words rang in Peter’s ears. Words Charles said to him that night in the kitchen. Those words brought his confession to a halt.

He doesn’t feel he made the wrong decision. He loves the Xavier Institute and everything it has to offer. He loves seeing his friends every day and going to classes despite being a terrible student. He loves having Charles double as his professor and his father figure. He can finally say he is presently happy with his life. He’s in school again with friends who are becoming his family. He’s not sitting in his mother’s basement letting days pass idly. He’s not giving that up for Erik.

Leaving with Erik would mean rejoining his father’s life but abandoning the lives of his friends. That would mean no tag in the rain with Ororo until she decides it’s time for a snowball fight. No more impossible games of Hide-and-Seek with Kurt changing his hiding spot at will. No more free arcade tournaments courtesy of Jubilee. No more watching movies on mute with Jean so they can do the character’s voices by themselves. He should be happy about getting rid if Scott, but he might end up missing him the most. Because that means no more teasing, bets, pranks, wresting, or noogies. It means no more riding shotgun with Scott in the driver’s seat as they speed down the highway listening to way too loud music and singing along.

Nothing in the world is worth walking away from his friends.

Peter sits up and grabs a pair of black jeans from the floor and tugs them on. He stands to loop a belt around his waist and tightens it, and then rummages around shirtless searching for anything clean enough to wear. He grabs an inside out black shirt and flips it so it’s facing the right way then pulls it over his head. He smoothes it down with his palm then holds out the hem to read the pink text: ‘ _Loverboy’_ with _‘Get Lucky’_ written beneath _._ He tilts his head to get a better look at the band drawn in white above the lettering. He hums; content with his choice, then continues his search for a jacket. He settles for his classic silver and black leather jacket since he can’t find his maroon bomber. At least the silver will match his sneakers. He props his foot on his desk to tie his laces and subconsciously mumbles lyrics.

“ _Because you really don’t owe me. You really don’t owe_.” He straps his goggles to his forehead and drapes his ear buds around his neck, then exits his bedroom. “ _You really don’t know me. You really don’t know._ ” He descends the stairs into the main foyer, “ _It’s your life_.” He jumps the last few steps to the landing where the stairs converge, “ _So do what you like._ ” He air drums the interlude, listening to the tune in his head. He hits the last note dramatically then moves to walk down the final stairs but stops in his tracks.

The light pouring in from the wide-open front doors silhouettes Charles and Erik. Charles’ posture is impeccable and his face is upturned towards Erik. Peter isn’t sure if they are conversing or admiring, but he stays anchored on his stairs to respect their privacy. Erik stands tall, shoulders back and hands in his pant pockets. There is obvious confidence in his stance, nothing that indicates second thoughts regarding his choice to leave. He offers Charles a final soft smile then walks out the door and down the steps to his awaiting car.

Peter resumes Erik’s spot. His shoulders naturally slide back to broaden his stance and his hands dig into his jean pockets. Same confidence, same security in his choice.

“You didn’t tell him, did you?”

He smiles shyly, “Are you sure you can’t read my mind?”

Charles chuckles and they watch Erik climb into the driver’s seat. He rests his elbow on the window ledge then pulls away from the mansion, not looking back at either of them. He drives down the road and they watch in silence till he is out of sight.

“You look an awful lot like him,” Charles says and Peter’s attention shifts to him, “standing like that.”

Peter smiles sheepishly, “Sorry.” He curls in on himself, slouching his shoulders and shoving his hands deeper into his pockets. “I didn’t mean to do that.”

“It’s not a bad comparison. I happen to think your father is a wonderful man in possession of remarkable qualities. I wouldn’t expect you to be any less.” Charles pauses, “Although, I’m counting on your mother to level you out. I don’t think the world can handle more than one Erik Lehnsherr.”

Peter snorts, “I don’t know if the world can handle the one.”

“Peter,” Charles lowers his voice, “I have no doubt in my mind that Erik gave you more than your mutant abilities. But I trust that you are capable of choosing which traits to embrace and which to bury.” He nods towards Peter and his expression flattens.

“Yes, professor.”

“I believe you have great potential to grow as a student at my institute. If you will allow my assistance, I will offer you my unfaltering support and guidance during your stay. If you have trouble with anything, please don’t be afraid to come to me for help or advice. My door is always open if you need to talk. Whether that be trouble with classes or your personal life, I’ll be happy to chat.”

Peter’s heart swells, “Thank you, professor. I know since I’ve got here, I’ve been fixated on Erik and my relationship with him. Hoping I could rekindle something we never technically had in the first place. He walked out on my mother, not me. Maybe he would have stuck around if he knew. But it doesn’t really matter, does it? It’s in the past now, and maybe my future doesn’t involve Erik yet. I don’t know what my future has in store for me, but in the present I have this school and you to watch over me. Erik hasn’t been much of a father figure towards me. Not in the past, not in the present, but possibly in the future.” He takes a deep breath and gestures towards the road ahead of him, “I just watched him drive away. But I don’t mind, because I have _you_.” He glances at Charles, watching a bright smile bloom on his face.

“Quite right, Peter. Thank you.” Charles recollects himself, “But is that truly how you feel watching him leave? You don’t mind?”

Peter sighs, “Of course I mind. He’s my father and I want him in my life, but…” He tilts his chin up, “I’m glad I got to say _goodbye_ this time.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [It's Your Life](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2xBWCFzG8FI) by Loverboy aka. the song Peter was singing.


End file.
